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BABY SCOTT 

A FARCICAL COMEDY IN 
THREE ACTS 



LEON O. MUMFORD 



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DICK & FITZGERALD 

PUBLISHERS 

18 Ann Street, New York 






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BABY SCOTT 



» farcical Comeoie in Gbree Beta 



BY 

LEON O. MUMFORD 



Copyright, 1914, by Dick & Fitzgerald 



NEW YORK 
DICK & FITZGERALD 

18 Ann Street 



NOTE. — The professional acting rights of this play are 
expressly reserved by the author. Theatrical managers who 
wish to produce it should apply to the author, in care of the 
publishers. Amateur representation may be made without such 
application and without charge. 



BABY SCOTT 



CHARACTERS. 

Tom Scott, in society by birth .Juvenile lead 

Col. Thomas Scott, retired capitalist Old man 

Burton Rogers, a social favorite Character 

Ralph Smith, a society idler Comedy 

James, Tom's valet Low comedy 

Mrs. Browne-Clarke, society matchmaker Old woman 

Miss Mae Stratton, a matrimonial sacrifice Emotional 

Bridget, the Scott's housekeeper Character 

Geraldine, " The Baby " .Ingenue 

Time. — The present. Locality. — New York City. 

Time of Playing. — A full evening. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — A New York bachelor's apartments. Evening. The 
artist's financial affairs pertinently discussed. Tom's marriage 
announced. His creditors depart in peace. Foreign society 
angling for American dollars. The enemy routed. Bridget a 
friend in need. " The Ba*?y arrives. " My own dear papa ! " 

Act II. — Same apartments. Next morning. Tom's return. 
" Babies drink milk." The Colonel backs a supposed matri- 
monial venture. A case of mistaken identity. James' untimely 
intrusion. Off to see the baby. Society shows its intentions 
to force an undesirable marriage. Bridget proves that a woman 

2 



JAH -3 1914 
§)C!.D 35533 



Baby Scott. ' 3 

can keep a secret. The wager. Mrs. Browne-Clarke ques- 
tions Geraldine's identity. " My own daughter ! " 

Act III. — Same apartments. Hallowe'en night eight months 
later. The fatal wedding dress. Miss Stratton secures the 
medallion. A question raised as to Geraldine's parentage. 
Tom throws down the gauntlet to Mrs. Browne-Clarke. The 
future foretold by the chestnuts jumping into the fire. James 
dallying with Cupid. " Woman's honor can have no better 
protector than herself." The Colonel tells a story of a life's 
disappointment. " No true American girl would barter herself 
for a title." Geraldine's father comes for his daughter. " An 
American girl recognizes no authority foreign to that of her 
native country. "" Geraldine remains " Baby Scott." 

COSTUMES. 

Tom Scott. — Act I. Dark trousers, fancy vest and smoking 
jacket. Change to dark sack or cut-a-way coat. Act II. Gray 
mixed business suit. Spring overcoat and hat. Act III. 
Tuxedo or full dress suit. 

Col. Thomas Scott. — Act II. Black frock coat, light 
trousers, light weight overcoat and high hat. Act III. Dark 
business suit. Lounging robe. Change to driving or rain coat. 
Change again to full dress suit. 

Burton Rogers and Ralph Smith. — While dressing similarly 
as to time of day, should vary some as to color of street 
apparel. Act I. Tuxedo, full dress, frock or dark cut-a-way 
suits. Act II. Light gray or brown mixed street suits, with 
light weight overcoats and hats. Act III. Full dress or 
tuxedo suits. 

James. — Acts I and II. Butler's uniform. Knickerbockers, 
fancy or red vest, cut-a-way coat with brass buttons and braid. 
If not possible to procure such a costume, use a full dress suit. 
Act III. Full dress suit with a long light overcoat, the longer 
the better, and a broken high hat. 

Mrs. Browne-Clarke. — Acts I and II. Street apparel with 
wraps and hat. If possible have costume for Act I semi- 
evening, while that for Act II may be more for early morning 
or shopping attire. Act III. Full evening attire, quite 
elaborate* 

Miss Stratton. — Costumes in all acts to follow those of Mrs. 
Browne-Clarke, except as to age. Miss Stratton, being much 
younger, it is permissable for her to display any amount of 
jewel adornment. 



4 Baby Scott. 

Bridget. — Act I. House wrapper of dark blue, red or gray, 
with shawl around shoulders, and small bonnet with strings 
tied under chin. Acts II and III. Customary housekeeper's 
attire, black dress with white apron, cuffs and cap. 

Geraldine. — Act I. Traveling apparel, with long ulster-like 
coat and dark hat, either straw or felt, but not elaborately 
trimmed. Act II. Street suit, different material than Act I, 
but still quite modest in style and trimming. Hat and short 
coat. Act III. White silk or sheer evening dress, if fashioned 
as a wedding dress of a decade past so much the better. 

INCIDENTAL PROPERTIES. 

Act I. — Locket. Newspaper on table. Bunch of keys. Cork- 
screw on side board. Decanter with cold tea or burnt sugar 
and water to represent wine or whiskey. Three small glasses. 
Tray. Box of cigars. Pitcher of water. Siphon of seltzer. 
Calling cards. Box of cigarettes. Card tray. Paper and pencil. 
Market basket. Telegram. Nursing bottle. Cradle. Bath tub. 
Tap bell. Several articles of ladies lingerie. 

Act II. — Several letters. Two each, plates, knives, forks, 
spoons, cups and saucers. Three glasses. Pitcher of milk. 
Coffee pot. Bread and food representing light breakfast. Pen, 
ink, paper, envelopes, etc. on desk. Cheque book. Toys, doll, 
jumping jack, packages, etc. Jewel case. Small trunk. Two 
suit cases. Letters. Ring. Locket. Sewing tray or basket. 
Broom. Feather duster. Table cloth and spread. 

Act III. — Chestnuts. Candle sticks. Fire tongs, shovel and 
andirons. Books. Apples. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

As seen by a performer on the stage facing the audience, r. 
means right hand ; l., left hand ; c, center of stage ; d. c, door 
in center of rear flat; r. u. e., right upper entrance; l. u. e., 
left upper entrance. Up means toward back of stage; down, 
toward footlights. 



BABY SCOTT 



ACT I. 



SCENE.— Tom Scott's handsomely furnished 'bachelor apart- 
ments, c. d. with hall backing, c. d. heavily draped. In l. 
upper corner writing desk ivith calendar, candlesticks, etc. 
In r. upper corner a fireplace with usual ornaments, l. c, 
a side board with dishes, decanter, glasses, cigars, etc. r. c, 
a table with vase of flowers, newspapers and magazines. 
Down r., a settee with cushions. Heavy rug on floor. 
Chairs and small stands to complete the setting, but care 
must be taken not to overcrowd. Entrances up r. and up l. 
DISCOVERED Burton reading at table R. c. and James 
standing c. d. holding back curtains. 

James. Come in, Mr. Ralph ; shure an' Misther Burt is here 
awaiting for ye; 

ENTER Ralph c. d., hands hat to James, slowly removes 
gloves turns and looks toward r. c. 

Burton {languidly turns his head towards c. d.). Ah, so it 
is you " Beauty " my boy. (Rises and crosses to c. d.) How 
are you? (They shake hands) 

Ralph (putting gloves in pocket). Aw — deah chappie — I 
f ee l — aw — like a fighting cock and am quite in trim for this 
sudden at home of Tom's. (Removes overcoat) Aw — I — 
wonder what's up? 

Burton (crossing to table). You know as much as I. Tom 
merely scrawled me a line saying : " Come to my den to-night, 
where women cease from troubling and the wicked are at rest." 
{Sits at l. of table) 

Ralph (hands overcoat to James. Crosses to R. of table). 
Aw — chappie that's blooming hard on woman, — I say, old chap. 
(Sits at r. of table) [EXIT James r. u. e. 



6 Baby Scott. 

Burton. So you see, " Beauty," I was compelled to come. 
Ralph. Aw — I — say — dean fellah — don't call me " Beauty." 
It's deuced bad form and I hate nicknames. 

ENTER James r. u. e. 

Burton. James, where is Tom? 

James (crosses to c. d.). Hear him, sor? (EXIT c. d. Tom 
off stage sings some popular chorus) 

Ralph. If reports are true — aw — Tom is singing on a limited 
income. 

Burton. Income! He hasn't a penny. 

Ralph. The deuce is to pay. 

Burton. He would be glad to know His Satanic Majesty 
held the only due bill. That cousin of mine is an awful 
plunger. 

ENTER Tom l. u. e. crosses to table r. c. and shakes hands 
with Burton and Ralph. 

Tom. Gentlemen, I feel honored, for this is positively my 
last appearance as a bachelor. The next drama I shall figure 
in is called " Matrimony ! " ( Crosses to l. and leans on 
mantel) 

Ralph i 

Burton \ (together). Matrimony! 

Tom. That is what it is called by a long suffering public. 

Ralph. Aw — I hear at the club that you are in a hole. 

Tom {crosses to table, puts hands on Ralph's and Burton's 
shoulders). Never listen, my boy, not even when charming 
woman whispers in your ear — sweet nothings. Ten chances 
to one the idolatry belongs to your tailor. (Rings bell) This 
is my funeral dirge. No more will I see the morning break 
on the tippling blinks of departing night. 

Burton (elbows on table. Face resting in his hands). To 
whom are you going to will your latch key? 

Tom ( taking key from trousers' pocket ) . Farewell, latch key ; 
thou martyred friend of the homeless. (Holds up cork-screw) 
Farewell cork-screw, thou spiral curve that proclaims the 
beautiful in art. Farewell all the blessings that have wafted 
my barque on the phosphorescent waves of bachelor bliss. 
( ENTER James r. u. e. ) James, you will find two lone bottles 
of the elixir of bachelorhood on the upper shelf. 



Baby Scott. 
James. Misther Tom, I came to tell ye- 



Tom. Don't James. {Leans against hack of chair) I 
know too much already. I am bubbling over. I fell like a 
gospel measure. [EXIT James b. u. e. 

Ralph. May I awsk — aw — when — er — love captured you, 
my deah boy? 

Tom (standing up). Love capture me? You poor 
antediluvian creature. Do you not know society has decreed 
a divorce between love and marriage. (Faces front) A man 
in love is a whirlwind of emotion, a barque tossed on the 
tempestuous waves of woman's fancy, a ship rudderless on the 
sea of hope, then he has a wondrous all-overness ; he cannot 
tell whatness. Now, do I look like it? (Sits down) 

ENTER James r. u. e., with tray, two bottles, three glasses. 
Places tray on table, arranges glasses and then EXIT 
b. u. E. 

Burton. Is she a widow? 

Tom (pours out drinks). A widow! I marry a widow? 
An obsolete taste mentioned in a back number? 

Burton. Let us drink to unadulterated love. 

Ralph. Aw — let — us drink to — er — woman. 

Burton. The toast, Tom? (All rise) 

Tom. Here's to matrimony! That triangular, rectangular, 
unlimited quantity — (ENTER James c. d., crosses to Tom and 
whispers to him. Burton and Ralph sit down. Ralph picks 
up newspaper and reads. Tom to James) The Dickens you 
say. Tell him I want no coroner's inquest here. If emotions 
don't lay him out, I will. (Sits down) [EXIT James c. d. 

Ralph. Aw — listen — to this. (Reads aloud) Aw — It — is 
reported that Thomas Scott, Jr. is about to close his bachelor 
quarters on Fifth Avenue preparatory to becoming a Benedict. 

Burton. Did you see that, Tom? 

Tom. That is how I know I am to marry ! 

Burton. No ! 

Tom. Quite true! 

ENTER James c. d. 

James. Three min at the dure, sor! (Pantomime to Tom 
that they are Mil collectors) 
Tom. Thank heaven it isn't three women. (Turns to 



8 Baby Scott. 

James) Speak out. I am now a public character. All New 
York is talking out loud. 

James (stepping forward). They said, sor, as how you had 
lost iverything. Oi could not stand that and Oi told thim we 
ware as rich as Jay Pierpont Morgan an' to come to-morrow 
whin the banks wore open an' we'd pay ivery mithers son on 
'em and more too. 

Tom. Thou art truly the son of the old sod. 

James. Yis, sor, thank ye, sor; but I'm not done yet, sor. 
Two wint away, but ould Einstein, not wid all me palaver 
could I move him, sor. 

Tom. My ancient friend, old hundred per cent. 

Burton. Here James. (Hands James the newspaper) 
Give this society paper to the old Shylock. It will restore his 
confidence in the matrimonial market, if not in the money 
market. [EXIT James c. d. 

Tom. Your usual diplomacy. Oh money, thou instigator, 
persecutor, and impressionable charmer, thou pivot on which 
the world revolves. 

ENTER James c. d. 

James (lays paper on the table). The ould Jew is gone, 
sor. As soon as his eye fell on the paper he said, "Tell 
Misther Scott I only called to extind the toime." 

Tom. I regret that you didn't gather him to his fathers. 

[EXIT James r. u. e. 

Ralph (picking up the paper). Aw — by — Jove. Here's 
another — er — item. (Reads) It is whispered that the gay 
bachelor was captured by a debutante of this season. 

Tom. Luck is dead against me. 

Burton. It is indeed a bad run of luck. 

Ralph. Aw — who — do you suppose put it in? 

Tom. Mrs. Browne-Clarke of course. She is back in New 
York. 

Ralph. Aw — er — the devil ought to — er — take Mrs. Browne- 
Clarke. 

Tom. She has been his for some time. 

Burton. Do you intend to submit. 

Tom (rising). Do I? (Slowly) I don't know. (Crosses 
R.) I can't fight old Browne-Clarke. I can't fight scandal. 
(Crosses l.) It looks as if Fate is stirring my pot of destiny 
and doing it very badly too. (Crosses to c. d. Draws curtains 



Baby Scott. 9 

and looks out) I am not a marrying man and it is infernally 
aggravating to have a meddling woman link my name with a 
girl I don't care for, until society gossips pick it up, publish 
it, and I must marry her or fight a scandal. (Crosses to 
table) I wish all meddling women were in Halifax. 

Burton. Phew ! You raked them that time. But the 
young lady of course will deny it in the next issue. 

Tom. Oh, no, not she ! Browne-Clarke won't permit it. 

Burton. What — is it, Miss Mae Stratton ! Old Browne- 
Clarke's latest London importation? 

Tom (resignedly). The same. 

Ralph (rises. Puts arm around Tom's neck very pathet- 
ically ) . Aw — deah — chappie — you — are — indeed — doomed. 
(Returns to seat) 

Burton. What will you do? 

Tom (pouring out wine). Do — Why, drink to my own 
health. (All rise) 

Here's to the bachelor, 

Who never refuses, 

To wed the fair maid, 

That old Browne-Clarke chooses. (All drink) 

Burton (lights a cigarette, crosses to chair r. and sits half 
facing c. d.). I suppose now you will give up painting. 

Tom. Never! (Takes a cigar, cuts end off, turns in hand, 
looks at it, smells it etc. as if testing brand) What? Give 
up the only art fit for the Gods for a woman's whim? Nay, 
nay, not I. At least, not right away. For I now have under 
way a canvas that will earn me recognition outside of the 
amateur ranks. 

Ralph. Aw — er — what — Fame? (Lights a cigarette. 
Crosses to seat opposite side of room from Burton and sits 
partly facing c. d.) Why — er — what are you painting? 

Tom (lighting cigar). It is called "After The Ball." 
(Burton and Ralph both laugh) 

Ralph. Aw — er — why not paint " His Master's Breath The 
Morning After." 

Burton. That's a very bad joke, " Beauty " entirely too 
personal. But come, Tom, tell us what the picture is to be. 

Tom (crosses to l. c. and leans against mantel. Slowly 
smokes cigar while half facing c. d., blows smoke in puffs and 
rings, and hesitatingly describes the picture. Sloiv music). It 



10 Baby Scott. 

is a picture of a young society bud. She has just returned to 
her boudoir after her first ball. Her maid has partially dis- 
robed her. She sits in a large arm-chair, her bare feet nestling 
in a large fur robe. Her golden hair is free from the cruel 
fastenings ordained by society, it hangs in great profusion 
over her bared shoulder. In her hand she holds a daintily 
perfumed program which she is studying intently, thinking 
not of the picture she makes, but of the conquests of the even- 
ing, and possibly of her first kiss. (All three continue to 
smoke and slowly blow the smoke in puffs, clouds and rings) 

NOTE. — If desired, daring Tom's speech, the curtains at c. d. 
can be slowly drawn back showing a young girl attired and 
posed as described by Tom. All lights sloivly dimmed until 
nearly out. Red or green borders on over the young girl. 
At the end of the speech the curtain is slowly dropped back 
into place. Stage slowly becomes brighter as the lights are 
turned on. 

Burton 

Ralph 



Bravo. (Clap their hands in light applause) 



Burton. Capital. 

Ralph. Immense. 

Burton. Great. 

Ralph. Charming. 

Burton. Superb. 

Ralph. Lovely. 

Burton. Great, my boy, simply great. Never thought such 
serious sense, even though of artistic inclination, ever reposed 
in that rattle brain of yours. 

Ralph. Aw — most remawkable — chappie — but — aw — me 
deah fellah, who is the model? 

Tom (waving the smoke away from his face). Celeste. 
The same who posed for my Venus. (Crosses to l.) But 
what do you say to a game of billards until my farewell 
Bachelor Lunch is announced. 

[EXIT Burton and Ralph arm in arm followed by Tom 

l. u. E. 

ENTER Bridget r. u. e. with a large clothes basket contain- 
ing clothes. Crosses to table. 

Bridget. Now it be afther a wonder if Missus Casy wouldn't 
be waiting until afther mid-night before deliverin' the wash. 



Baby Scott. 11 

(Puts "basket on chair and looks through its contents) Well, 
be jabbers, if she hain't gone an' lift the wrong wash. (Takes 
ladies lingerie apparel out. Holding up each article and 
places them on chairs and furniture around room, except on 
settee) I wonder if there hain't a thing but fa-inale duds in 
this basket. I'le try me bist not to muss or spile any of dese 
she-male fol-de-rols. Ah, here at lasht be Master Tom's own 
clothes now. (Takes up basket starts off r. c.) Sich ex- 
travagence. All this gas blazing sky high an' him in dar wid 
Master Burt and Ralph (Tom, Burton, and Ralph laugh 
heartily) a laughing their heads off an' him never a thought 
of the expinse of dis gas; and not a minute in the day the 
dure bell hain't being rung dry wid sum one wanting money. 
Wall, I'll just turn it down a wee bit, while I goes and put 
away his fine linen. (Stands with basket on arm and hands 
on hips) Laugh away you scalla-wags, the divil wid de oxpinse. 
(During this speech lights way down) 

[EXIT Bridget r. u. e., laughing. Bell rings c. d. 

ENTER James c. d. followed by Mrs. Browne-Clake and 
Miss Stratton. 

Mrs. Clake. Will you kindly learn if Mr. Scott is in and 
at liberty? [EXIT James l. u. e. 

Mae (crossing with Mrs. Clarke to settee and both sitting 
down). But really, Mrs. Clarke, do you not think it indis- 
creet, our coming here at this late hour? 

Mrs. Clarke. Certainly not, my dear. What harm can 
there be in your calling upon your intended when accom- 
panied by a chaperon? For all we know he may be ill. He 
did not call on us in the box at the opera. 

Mae (picking up paper). Ah, I see he has received the 
paper containing the notice. 

Mrs. Clarke. That is capital. We can mislead him by 
asking who put it in and pretending our honor has been 
touched, and the only remedy is to do as the article infers. 

Mae. I am afraid you have taken too strenuous measures 
to bring this about. 

Mrs. Clarke. Not at all. Man must be bullied and have 
his honor appealed to. 

Mae. I wonder if he takes as kindly to the proposed 
marriage as stated in the society papers. 

Mrs. Clarke. Most assuredly not. No man ever does. 



12 Baby Scott. 

They all rebel at the thought of being won instead of winning. 
But we shall succeed. 

Mae. How do you intend bringing it about? 

Mrs. Clarke. He is a man of most delicate honor and we 
will play upon it. 

Mae. They say no power on earth can make him stretch 
his honor into marrying a girl he does not want. 

Mrs. Clarke. I have yet to experience a failure. 

Mae. I trust this will not prove to be an exception, as 
all in our set in London know the object of my trip to 
America. 

Mrs. Clarke. I have handled men like him before. There 
was Sharpe of a sympathetic nature ; all Marie Thayer had 
to do was to sigh and turn her head pensively and he was 
hers. 

Mae. But then they say if he does marry he will suit 
himself. 

Mrs. Clarke. The same was said of Greenwood, but Helene 
Chamberlain, a sensation in dimples and a lisp, he avoided 
most coldly until at a tea and that settled him. 

Mae. I do so hope this won't prove a failure. In fact I 
may as well confess I admire Mr. Scott the most of all the 
men in his set and I am afraid I could learn to love him. 

Mrs. Clarke. Never fear I have disposed of less desirable 
property than you. There was Margie Remmel. Margie's well 
educated hand got Stearnes, whose fad was palmistry. The 
most difficult was Lillian Long. When she first came out her 
hair was black, but the black hair and Lillian went over 
one season. But Lillian and golden hair caught Jimmie Hawes, 
a wealthy Columbia freshman. So you see, my dear, there is 
no occasion to worry. 

ENTER James l. u. e., Mrs. Clarke and Mae rise. 

James. Mr. Scott is (Spies clothes on the chairs and backs 
up to hide them) Mr. Scott — is — er — not 

Mrs. Clarke. What is it, James? Speak right out. {Turns 
and notices wearing apparel. Goes and picks up a garment) 
Ah, what means this? 

James. I don't know, mim — as I was saying — Mr. Scott is 
er 

Mrs. Clarke. Woman's apparel strewn promiscuously 
around the room! 



Baby Scott. 13 

Mae (looking at clothing etc. In half sobs). I wish we 

hadn't come. 

James. Misther Scott wishes me to say 

Mrs. Clarke. Hadn't come! Why it is an excellent thing 

we did. For now we have another trump card up our sleeve. 

James. Me masther is not playing cards, he is 

Mrs. Clarke. Tell Mr. Scott we do not wish to take him 

from his (Sarcastically) charming company. He will hear 

from us at another time. Come, Mae, we must be going. 

(James holds curtains back c. d.) 

EXIT c. d. Mae demurely with head bowed down, while Mrs. 
Clarke sweeps out majestically. 

Tom (looking through l. u. e.). Has the enemy departed? 
James. Shure, Masther Tom. The coast is clear. 

[EXIT James c. d. 

ENTER Tom l. u. e. and calls off l. 

Tom. Come on, fellows. The enemy has appeared, fired 
their skirmish guns and retired in disorderly condition. 

ENTER Burton and Ralph l. u. e. 

Burton (crossing to a chair and picking up a garment). 
Must have been mighty severe fighting to leave such terrible 
traces of the battle. 

Ralph (also picking up a garment). Have they camped 
out in your apartments for the night? 

Tom. What diabolical scheme is this? 

ENTER Bridget r. u. e. 

Bridget. Phwhats phwhat! Why sure didn't ole Missus 
Casey jist bring ye wash, and yer clothes be afther all mixed 
up wid sum other loidies and I had jist sorted thim out an' 
was beyant placing yer own duds in yer own drawers, Master 
Tom. (With the others helping, clothes are replaced in 
basket) 

Tom (hands money to Bridget). Here's an extra dollar. 
You and Mrs. Casey saved me from a painful interview that 
time. [EXIT Bridget l. u. e. 



14 Baby Scott. 

ENTER James c. d. with cablegram on tray. Crosses over 
to Tom. Burton and Ralph sit. 

James. It is a letter, sor. 

Tom (turns toward James). A what? 

James. A cablegram, sor. (Hands tray to Tom) 

[EXIT c. d. 

Ralph (crosses to table. Tom takes message from tray and 
studies the envelope intently). Open it. 

Burton (rising). Don't try to read it through the envelope. 
(Tom tears it open and reads it. His hands drop by his side 
and a look of agony appears on his face) 

Ralph (going to Tom). Heaven's man! What is the 
matter? 

Burton (crosses to Tom). What the Dickens is up now? 

Tom (sinking in chair. Drops cablegram). It — is — a — 
baby! 

Burton (picks up cablegram and reads). "Baby will 
arrive to-night." 

Ralph. What! A — baby — coming here to-night? 

Tom. Hang it. Don't set it to music. I shall be the laugh- 
ing stock of the clubs. To-day they are whispering and ex- 
pressing condolence and sympathy. To-morrow they will offer 
congratulations, and when they hear of this they will all be 
smiling and looking deuced wise. Damn it, I can manage debts, 
Jews, mortgages, but not a baby. (Lays head on arms on 
table) 

Ralph (puts hand on shoulder at r.). Whose baby is it? 

Burton (doing the same at l.). Where is the mother? 

Tom (looking up). The mother! How do I know. The 
infernal donkey, to saddle me with a baby. 

Burton. Perhaps it is not as bad as you think. 

Tom (rising). It couldn't be worse. How do you suppose 
I will appear? A bachelor with a baby. (ENTER James c. d.) 
James, there is a baby coming. 

James. Faith sor Oi'l have nuthing to do wid a baby. 

Tom (angrily). What's that? 

James (backing away). I won't be mixed up with a baby. 

Tom (advancing). You won't! 

James (still backing up). You know, Misther Tom. I did 
not hire out as a nursery maid. 

Burton. Why don't you call Bridget? 

Ralph. That's it, get Bridget. 



Baby Scott. 15 

Tom. Call Bridget. Don't stand there like a helpless idiot. 
(James crosses to c. d.) 
Burton. Tell her we are expecting a baby. 
Tom. Tell her it is coming from London. 
Ralph. Tell her it is coming to-night. 

^ T [EXIT James c. d. 

Burton. Is the baby coming from London? 

manM) ^^ "* ^^ ^ iS tt ° 0ming from? (0oes to 

Ralph (sitting on chair). I must say you are not very 
communicative. 

Tom (hands in pockets). Do you want me to talk myself 
to death about a baby. All I know the cable is from London 
saying a baby will be here to-night. 

Burton. Who will bring her? 

Tom. Her? Who said anything about sex? 

Ralph. Oh — ! 

Burton. Why all this secrecy? 

Tom. There is no secret ! 

Burton. Where is the mother? 

Tom. It has none, I suppose? 

Ralph. That's odd! 

Tom. Odd— Did you ever hear of a baby's mother dying? 

Burton. Oh, then you know something about the mother. 

Tom. I do. 

Burton. Is it a friend's baby? 

Tom. Whose else could it be? 

Burton. Then why didn't you say so? 

ENTER Bridget c. d. followed by James carrying small hand 
basket. Places basket at r. All push a chair forward 
toward Bridget who takes Burton's chair. Other chairs 
replaced. 

Bridget {sitting down). For the love of heaven, give me a 
dhrop to drink. 

James (brings a glass of water). Here ye air. 

Bridget (takes glass and tastes the water. Hands it back 
to James). Bad luck to ye. Do ye think I'd spile me illegant 
thirst wid anythin' as wake as wather. 

Ralph (pouring out a glass of whiskey filled quite full). 
This is the right thing. (Hands it to Bridget) 

Bridget (drinks and smacks lips). That be more loike it. 



16 Baby Scott. 

But, Misther Tom, where's the baby? (All smile. Bridget 
looks around) It's a foine flock o' larks ye are. Here I wuz 
over to me frind Missus O'Rourke's over on the nixt block, 
who be afther being loid up wid rheumatiz the pasht four 
wakes an' I wuz afther saying, says I, as how good a rimidy 
rid flannel wore, when in rushes that spalpeen of a James an' 
say as how the baby had come and ye wuz afther wanting me. 
I jumphs right up on the instint, quick slaphs me bonnet on 
and runs ivery steph of the way over here and here I am, 
but, where's the baby, Misther Tom? 

Tom. It's coming. We expect it every minute. 

Bridget. It will — well, let it come, I'm riddy. 

Tom. It will come all right. No such good luck as failure. 

Burton. Oh, yes, Bridget. The baby will be here to-night. 
We received a cable. 

Bridget. Ye did. Me sowl to glory. (Rises, picks up basket 
and starts for door) 

Tom (rushes to her. Holds her arms with his hands. Tries 
to force her to sit). Great Caesar. You are certainly not 
going to leave me alone with a baby? 

Bridget. There's no baby to lave yer with, Misther Tom. 
And if it comes, it can't come by itself an' ye don't nade two 
nurses. 

Tom (still holding Bridget). Bridget! Bridget! sit down. 
The baby is coming. I don't know how. But I won't have a 
strange nurse about. Now do you understand. The baby is 
coming from London. 

Bridget. From London, did ye say? Ye needn't say ye had 
to sind all the way to London for a baby, Misther Tom. Why, 
New York is full of them. 

Tom. But don't go. (Motions to James to take basket) 

[EXIT James r. u. e. taking Bridget's basket. 

Bridget. I'm not going and I'll take care of the baby no 
matter where it comes from. (Removes hat and shawl) 

Tom. That's right. 

Bridget. Misther Tom, a baby is a baby and talking don't 
change it. The darling will come and not a sup have ye for it. 
Be gorra, if it were a dog you'd have no trouble in finding 
something for it to ate, a sup to drink, and a soft place 
to lay. Bekase it is a human bein' ye are all bothered 
entoirely. (Takes her hat and shawl and crosses to R.) 

Tom. What do babies need? 
Bridget. Mostly fathers, sor. 



Baby Scott. 17 

Tom (crossing to Bridget). Don't babies need cradles, 
bottles, pins, and things? Bridget, why don't you talk, you 
are a woman? 

Bridget. Are ye going to let the baby die to-night. Surely 
it will nade a cradle. 

Tom. Of course it will need a cradle as it must stay to- 
night. 

ENTER James r. u. e. 

Bridget. Open the dures and let out the shmoke. (James 
opens doors. Pulls back curtains c. d. Puts furniture back 
from center of stage assisted by Burton and Ralph) 

[EXIT Bridget l. u. e. 

Burton. Send James for the cradle. 

Tom. That's it; James you go and get a cradle. 

James. A cradle! Where'll I get it? 

[EXIT James c. d. 

Tom. Anywhere; only so you get one. 

Ralph. Why don't you make a memorandum of what you 
need. 

ENTER Bridget l. u. e. with bath tub. 

Tom. Thunder. You are not going to bathe the baby here. 
(Crosses to desk preparing to write list) 

Bridget (hands on hips). Indade I will. This is one baby 
that will have its rights. 

Tom. Very well, but what is to go on this list? (Burton 
and Ralph stand either side of desk) 

Ralph. Put down cradle. 

Bridget. Gin, Misther Tom. [EXIT l. u. e. 

Tom. Wait, where am I? Cradle, pins, gin, and a bottle, 
of course. 

Burton. Two. If you have but one and that breaks where 
are you then, my fine fellow. 

ENTER Bridget l. u. e., with towel, soap, etc. Crosses to c. d,, 
and closes curtains. 

Ralph. Aw, what are you going to put in it? 
Burton. Whiskey ! 
Bridget. For bathing! 
Tom. Well, go on! 



18 Baby Scott. 

Burton. Mellin's food. 

Ralph. Paregoric ! 

Tom. Yes, yes, I have got all that ! 

Ralph. Peppermint. 

Burton. Mustard, of course. 

Ralph. Soothing syrup. 

Burton. Olive oil ! 

Tom. Hang it, man. You are not going to make a salad. 

Bridget. Go on, Misther Tom, ye are losing time. 

Ralph. Bitters. 

Burton. Cherries. 

Tom. Neither is it a cocktail. 

Burton. Proclaim the proclamation. 

Tom (reads). Cradle, gin, pins, two bottles, whiskey, 

peppermint, soothing syrup 

Burton. Powder. 

ENTER James c. d. with cradle. Crosses to l. c. and puts it 

down. 

James. The baby has come. [EXITS c. d. 

Tom (collapses in chair). At last. 

Ralph. Where? (Runs around Bridget and falls over 
"bath tub. Looks out c. d.) 

Burton. I wonder if it has golden hair and blue eyes? 

Ralph. I'll hold it first. (Crosses to mantel) 

Burton. By Cupid, I'll kiss it first. (Starts for c. d., falls 
over cradle) 

Tom (rises and goes r. c). Hang it all. I'll both hold it 
and kiss it first. It is my baby. (Bridget crosses to r. 
Burton stands at l. near c. d. Ralph in front of fireplace) 

ENTER James c. d. 

James (holding back curtains and bowing low). Miss Baby 
Scott. 

ENTER Geraldine c. d. Music. 

Geraldine (crossing to r. c. and putting arms around Tom's 
neck). My own papa! 

Quick Curtain. 



Baby Scptt. 19 



ACT II. 

SCENE. — Same as Act I. The newt morning. DISCOVERED 
James looking in drawers at desk. Comes down c. 
puts letters on table, picks up newspaper and sits full 
length on settee with one foot on settee, the other leg 
cross knee with foot in air. 

James. Misther Tom ought to have found out something 
about the baby and her affairs by this time. He's been out 
all night. There's a sum-thin' going on. (Looks up from 
paper) Mr. Burton give me a fiver not to say any thin' er — 
about it and I won't unless I'm axed. But I should like to 
know what's going on jes' the same. Well, mealtime's the 
time to find out, 'cause thin's whin people talks whin thay ate. 
(Reads the paper again) No noos, not a prize fight nor 
nothing. (Rises and crosses to R. c.) Well, things are com- 
ing my way. I've all but arranged to buy a corner grocery 
I saw advertised. I've paid the deposit, and whin the governor 
pays me me back wages I kin plank down the rist and com- 
mence a loife of aise and unadulterated bliss wid Bridget by 
me soide. La — da — di — da — (Does a little tripping dance up 
to c. d. Pulls curtains aside and stops looking off r. c.) Ah 
dar she comes. Bliss her sowl. She's a clever girl! An' 
she's me steady, (comes down c. looks around and shouts) 
Hooray ! 

ENTER Bridget c. d. James at r. c. looking at her admir- 
ingly for a second or two, then cautiously goes to doors 
at l. and r. looks, and listens, etc. Bridget ENTERS 
very demurely in cap, apron, etc., with duster or cloth in 
hand. She commences dusting things on side-board, 
looking at James who is listening at door L. He 
pantomimes " All-Right. ,, She puts doivn duster and they 
come to c. and have a good hug. Then she resumes dust- 
ing. All this business done very quietly. 

Bridget (these first speeches in rather low voice). We've 
managed splendidly, haven't we. 
James. Proper. 
Bridget. Misther Tom back yit? 



20 Baby Scott. 

James. I don't know. I don't think so. 

Bridget (comes to l. a). I suppose he really would be put 
out if he knew we were keeping company. (Sits on r. arm of 
settee) We must kape it quiet for the prlsint. For whin 
he engaged me he says, you haven't any best fellow have 
you, 'cause I don't want any lovers quarrels about me 
premises. 

James (r. a). Well, any how I'm not going to risk it. I 
told you what he said whin he engaged me. He's such a 
peculiar lad. Although you an' I war strangers to each other 
before I cum here, he'd never belave it. He'd think I got into 
this place by fraud or something wurse, so we must kape it 
quiet. 

Bridget (rising). Right ye are, me bye. 

James (with enthusiasm). Oh, me lass, jist one more, 
afore sumone cums. (They go to c. and hug. Then resume 
dusting. James goes to table. Bridget crosses down l. then 
up l. then around to c.) 

Bridget (tickles James' face with the duster). Niver mind 
me laddy-buck. (Crosses to table where letters are) I 
wonder if thar's eny bad noos for Misther Tom this mawn- 
ing? 

James. It will be a miracle if there hain't. He'll feel as 
if there wuz sumthin' wrong. (Crosses to l. c, sits on sofa 
and Bridget goes to dust side-board) I niver knew a man 
in sich a state o' hardupishness in all me born days. An' 
the loife he lives. Night afther night and him engaged to 
be married too. Whin along comes dis slip o' colleen a calling 
him papa. Oh, wurra, wurra, whar will it all ind. Upon me 
wurd I think his uncle the colonel ought to be told about it. If 
he knew of his goings on he'd 

Bridget (at side-board turning and speaking over shoulder). 
I suppose you have gone on in your time; haven't you? 

James. Niver ! 

Bridget (comes to a). James, don't ye commence court- 
ing me wid a falsehood ! 

James. Oh, come now, me darlint, I say — (Rises quickly and 
comes down c.) 

Tom (calling off stage). James! 

James (in ansiver to Tom). Sor ! (To Bridget) Don't 
you be afther going an' flatter ye-self ye are afther kaping 
company wid a mon wid a rheumatic past. 

Tom (off stage). James! 



Baby Scott. 21 

James (to Tom). Coming, sor! 

Bridget. Well, me bye, I don't care wun bit about ye pasht. 
It's ye prisint conduct that consarns me, you laddy-buck. Put 
that in yer poipe an' smhoke it. 

James. Thim's me sentiments too, me darlint. Give us an- 
other kiss fur luck, me colleen. 

Bridget. Can't, here's Misther Tom. (Goes down r. then 
up r. dusting furiously) 

ENTER Tom c. d. dressed in street apparel with overcoat open 
and hat on hack of head. Hair all mussed up. Walks 
down c. 

Tom. James ! 
James. Yis, sor! 

Tom. Why on earth don't you answer me? 
James. I hev answered ye, ivery time, sor! 
Tom (removing hat, overcoat, and gloves). What is the 
good of that. (Hands each article to James) 

EXIT James l. u. e. throwing kisses to Bridget behind 
Tom's back. 

Bridget (coming to c). Ah, Misther Tom, so ye have re- 
turned at lasht. I was afraid ye had gone and made away 
wid ye self. 

Tom (crossing to mantel in dejected mood). No fear of 
that, Bridget. Old Browne-Clarke has already disposed of me. 

Bridget (going up to him). Where did you slape lasht 
night? 

Tom. Sleep. I was at the club. Is er — Miss — er — the baby 
up yet? 

Bridget. Yis, for the lasht hour a- waiting for yer return. 

Tom (crossing to desk rings bell). Send her to me. 

EXIT Bridget r. u. e. kissing her hand as James ENTERS 
l. u. e. James goes to table and gets letters taking them 
to Tom who sits at the desk. 

James. Here's the morning mail, sir! 

Tom (opens and reads). Sir, unless. (Throws it on the 
desk. Opens another and reads) Sir, we are very much 
surprised. (Throws it on the table) 



23 Baby Scott. 

James. Ye, haven't paid 'em; have ye, sor? 

Tom (opening several). Only circulars from the baker, 
butcher, real estate agents, florists, and candy makers, solicit- 
ing my trade after marriage and " please-remits " from those 
already honored with my patronage. 

James. Very kind of thim, sor. 

Tom (opens another). Sir, we would be very much obliged. 
(Opens another and reads) "Dear sir, would you kindly 
officiate as steward of a fancy dress ball at Sherrys?" No, I 
won't. Answer that, James. Say I won't. 

James. Give any reasons, sir? 

Tom. I leave that to you. 

James. Very good, sir. (Looks at letter) Rather influen- 
tial list, I think I'd better sind yer name in, sor. 

Tom. Oh, all right. (Reads) "Dear sir, I do beg of you 
to place a little on Iona Lass to-morrow. She's down for a 
killing this time. The odds will be unusually long." See to 
that, James. 

James. Yes, sir, I'll put you a hundred each way. 

Tom. And, James, as soon as the lady comes you may serve 
breakfast. (James arranges table for meal and serves it) 

ENTER Geraldine l. u. e. 

Geraldine. Cousin Tom — Good morning! 

Tom (rises and goes to her). Ah, good morning. I trust 
you feel rested. 

Geraldine. I am not at all tired, thanks to your generosity, 
but am sorry to have turned you out of your house and home. 

Tom (aside). Wish my creditors felt that way. (To 
Geraldine) Don't think of it in that light, my apartments 
at the club and I are old friends. Won't you join me at 
breakfast? (Both cross to table arranged by James. Tom 
bows her to seat at r. He sits at l. James serves) 

James. Will you have it plain this morning or do you wish 
soda, sor? 

Tom. None at all. There is a lady present. 

James (bowing). I begs yer pardon; won't the lady have 
something? 

Geraldine. Excuse me. I never indulge in spirituous 
liquors, but then cousin Tom don't let me interfere with your 
usual customs. 

Tom. I occasionally take an appetizer, but with such fair 
companion one does not feel the need of it. 



Baby Scott. 23 

Geraldine. Oh, you flatterer, 

James. I think you look pale this morning ; and a small one 
won't hurt you. 

Tom (speaking to Geraldine). James usually joins me and 
he is speaking more for his own benefit than— (To James) 
James you may have yours if agreeable to Miss Geraldine. 

James. Thanks mum. (Crosses to side-board quickly) I 
do feel a wee bit wake me-self this mawning and if ye don't 
mind (Quickly pours out a big one and quickly drinks it) I'll 
take a small one to your health. (Pours out a second drink) 
Tom (turns and sees him). Put that dowK. (Turns away) 
James (drinks it). I am putting it down. (Drinking from 
decanter) 

Tom (looks at James). Put it down on the side-board. 
(Turns and converses with Geraldine) 

James (looks at Tom. Then at the side-board. Sits on 
side-board, and drinks from bottle). I am putting it down 
on the side-board, sor. 
Tom. I think we have all that is needed, so you may go. 
James (starts ivith decanter). Thank you, sor. 
Tom (turns toward James). Leave the decanter. 
James (looks at Tom, then at the decanter, and then back 
at Tom, then again at the decanter). Sure an' I don't want the 
decanter. It is what is in it that I want. (Pours out re- 
mainder in a pitcher, takes and drinks from it as he EXITS 
c. d. Geraldine and Tom both laugh heartily) 
Geraldine. Are you my cousin Tom? 
Tom. Certainly I am. Will you have coffee? 
Geraldine. I never drink coffee. 
Tom. What do you drink? 

Geraldine. Babies drink milk! (Both laugh) 
Tom. Why did you think me your father? I am not an old 
looking chap. 

Geraldine. Sister Agnes said so. 
Tom. Sister Agnes? 

Geraldine. The sister who had charge of me at the con- 
vent. 
Tom. Why did she think so? 

Geraldine. She was certain. She was sure, as " Tom Scott " 
were the last words mamma said. 

Tom. And sister Agnes sent you to me? 
Geraldine. Yes, cousin Tom, you cannot realize what it is 
to be alone in this world, with no mother and no home. Your 
father lost to you and no one to love you. 



24 Baby Scott. 

Tom. But I can sympathize with you. 

Geraldine (looks at medallion). You must be my papa. 
(Crosses and embraces Tom) 

Tom (trying to get away). Sit! 

Geraldine (returns to chair). I really thought you were 
my papa. (Puts handkerchief to eyes) 

Tom (rising). Don't cry. 

Geraldine (looking up). I'm not a cry baby, I'm a laugh- 
ing baby. 

Tom. I am indeed glad you are not crying. What would 
you like to do this morning? 

Geraldine. Go shopping. 

Tom. What is it you wish to get? 

Geraldine. Well the first thing I want to get is some 
dresses and all that sort of things. 

Tom. We will go to Redferns, Lord & Taylors, Wanamakers, 
and Altmans. 

Geraldine. Then I shall want some jewelry. 

Tom. Tiffany's for that. 

Geraldine. You are rich, cousin Tom, are you not? 

Tom (aside). Rich in debts. 

Geraldine. Then we can get them on credit. 

Tom (aside). Oh, how original. Thank goodness I haven't 
any accounts at these places. (To Geraldine). Very well. 
You go and get your coat and hat. (Crosses to l. opens door). 
And I will order my car. 

[EXIT Geraldine l. u. e. 

Colonel (off stage). Is that young rascal up yet? I must 
see him at once. 

Tom. Great heavens, my uncle. Now I am in for it. 

ENTER Colonel c. d. followed by James. Tom goes up c. 
to meet him. 

Colonel (shaking hands). Ah, you young reprobate. (Re- 
moves hat) Now I have got you. (Puts hat on chair) What 
is this about your being engaged. (Removes overcoat) I only 
read about it last night, (Hands coat to James) and came to 
town at once this morning to learn all the particulars direct 
from you. (Removes gloves) The article itself was very 
vague. (Hands gloves to James) Who is the young lady? 
(James picks up hat from chair and with coat and gloves 
EXITS c. d.) 

Tom (aside) . If I keep the game up possibly I may raise 



Baby Scott. 25 

gome money. (To Colonel) Why, Mrs. Browne-Clarke's pro- 
tege, her niece who just arrived from England. (Sits on sofa 
with hands in pockets) 

Colonel (sitting down at desk). What, one of that set! 
Well, I don't take much stock in the British either. Would 
much prefer that it was an American girl. But then, if she 
is a sensible woman, it is just what you need to keep you 
from jumping over the traces. 

Tom. I am sure she will be all that is required in that way. 

Colonel. But, my dear boy, don't put too much confidence 
in women, especially of the Browne-Clarke stamp. For they 
are too fond of gold, society, splendor, and ease to make man 
a happy home. Remember why all these years I have re- 
mained single, so that the same unhappiness doesn't fall to your 
lot. 

Tom. I am fully aware your being a bachelor is due to dis- 
appointment in women, but I feel sure the same is not in store 
for me. It pleases me that you look with favor upon my pro- 
posed intentions of marrying. 

Colonel. If you propose investing in matrimony when it 
is toppling on the brink of bankruptcy, at a time too when 
experience says it cannot meet its liabilities; when its stocks 
are watered, with shares running below par and a heavy monop- 
oly of oblivion in the future, why, I suppose you will require 
some financial backing to float this connubial enterprise, eh, 
my boy. 

Tom (winks at audience). Oh, a few hundred wouldn't 
come a-miss, for there are several little preliminary expenses 
attached to a venture like this. 

Colonel. I know it, my boy. How much do you think you 
will require? 

Tom (rising). Oh, say five thousand. 

Colonel. Are you sure that is enough? 

Tom. Might make it ten; if not asking too much. (Faces 
front ) 

Colonel (turns to desk. Takes cheque book out of pocket 
and starts writing cheque). Well, I'll make it fifteen and if 
you find you have too much you can return what is left over. 

Tom (looking over Colonel's shoulder). Thanks awfully. 
(Turns front and winks at audience) If there is any balance 
I will surely return all of it. 

ENTER James r. u. e. and busily takes dishes from table 
and puts them on tray. 



£8 Baby Scott. 

Colonel (rising). There you are, my boy. Take it, (Turns 
and crosses to c. To Tom. Hands him the cheque) Now I 
wish to see that new painting Rogers told me about this morn- 
ing while on my way here. (Starts for l. u. e.) 

Tom (takes cheque, reads the amount and puts it in his 
pocket-book. Stands in front of the Colonel excitedly). You 
cannot go in there. 

Colonel. Why? 

Tom. Because — er — because you will disturb the baby. 

Colonel. The what? 

Tom (aside). Now I will get it. (To the Colonel) Why, 
the baby ! 

Colonel (angrily). Now what kind of a scrape have you 
gotten into? What is the baby doing here? 

Tom (aside). That is just what I would like to know. 
Shall I tell him all about it and make a clean breast of the 
whole affair? It won't do any good. He wouldn't under- 
stand; and 

Colonel (stamping foot). Well sir, why don't you answer? 

Tom (to Colonel). Answer what? (Aside) Now for a big 
lie. What will it be. (To Colonel) Oh, yes, er — the — baby — 
(Goes to James) Say, what is the baby doing here? (To 
Colonel) Why you see sir (Looks at James) 

James (in a hoarse whisper). How the devil do I know? 

Tom (to Colonel). You — see — sir — er — the — baby — (To 
James) Tell me quick some lie about a baby. (To Colonel) 
Oh, yes, it was, it is, er — about the baby you were asking 
about? 

James (in hoarse whisper). Why ter — paint its pictoor ; 
shure now that's an aisy one. ( Winks liis eye and EXITS c. d.) 

Tom (straightening hands in pockets, chest thrown out, rock- 
ing on heels) Oh, yes, yes, indeed. Why, I am painting a 
picture of Moses in the Bull Rushes and wanted a baby to use 
for Moses, but couldn't borrow one from the Orphans Home, so 
you see I had to adopt it and the dear little thing is here now ; 
it came last night. (Laughs in a forced ivay. Aside) Well, 
now I am a " beaut " of an Annanias. 

Colonel. Hum, took a deuced long time for you to tell it. 

Tom. Did it? Well, you see a fellow in love cannot collect 
his thoughts readily when called upon to converse about an- 
other subject. 

Colonel. Quite true; but, does the future Mrs. Scott know 
of this baby? 



Baby Scott. fe7 

Tom. Oh, yes, certainly, it is one she picked out herself. 

Colonel. And does she take kindly to the idea? 

Tom. Yes indeed. Thinks it is so original to start married 
life right off with a ready made baby; she is of such a moth- 
erly disposition. 

Colonel. I am glad to hear it, for such women make the 
best of wives. Now, I have some letters to write. (Crosses to 
desk) Do you mind my using your desk? 

Tom. Certainly not. (Goes to desk and arranges things) 
You will find everything you need I think. There are pens, 
paper, and ink, (Opens a drawer) and stamps in this drawer, 
and a blotter in that pigeon hole. 

Geraldine (off stage l.). Tom, Tom, I am ready. 

Tom (crosses to l., hurriedly and softly). Yes, yes, I am 
coming. (To Colonel) I will have to leave you for a while, 
you will excuse me. It is a little business matter you know. 

Colonel. All right. I will wait until you return. (Puts on 
glasses. Looks up at Tom) Ah, who is the lady in there? 
(Glances toward l. u. e.) 

Tom (crosses to l. u. e.). Only one of the models who called 
about an appointment. [EXITS l. u. e. bowing. 

Colonel (sits down. Turns face front). I am afraid that 
nephew of mine is getting to be sort of a bad one. (Chuckles) 
But then, he is only a chip of the old block. (Turns and ar- 
ranges papers on desk preparatory to ivriting, and commences 
to write) 

ENTER Mae c. d. in street attire. Looks around, sees the 
Colonel, goes up to him on tip toe, throws arms around his 
neck and kisses him. 

Mae. Say, dear Tom. You darling boy, I am so glad to 
find you here alone. I couldn't sleep at all after what hap- 
pened last night, so rushed over here all alone the first thing 
this morning to see you. (Kisses and hugs him again) 

Colonel (struggles and frees himself). That is all very 
nice and kind of you, my dear woman, but I don't happen to 
be your Tom. (Mae screams and runs towards c. d. Ris- 
ing) That is all right, I am his uncle. (Goes to her) Don't 
run away, I wish to talk to you. (Takes her to a chair at l.) 
I suppose you are to be my niece? (Returns to desk) 

Mae (aside). Phew, Tom's uncle. I must be careful or I 
will spoil it all. (Sits down. To Colonel) Yes, sir. 



28 Baby Scott. 

Colonel (sitting at desk). Well, I am glad Tom has de- 
cided to marry. He is a good boy in principle. But a trifle 
inclined to be wild. But, then, all men must sow their wild 
oats, you know. His greatest fault is his extravagance. Now, 
you look like a sensible little woman who I am sure will put 
on the brakes and steady Tom over the rocks. 

Mae. Tom is indeed extravagant. He is too good natured 
for his own good. Always doing so much for others at his 
own expense. (Aside) Poor Tom! You saint ! 

Colonel. And as for the baby. Is it not rather strange 
for a young couple to start in with a baby? 

Mae (to Colonel). Sir — I do not quite understand. (Aside) 
The old gentleman must have been drinking. 

Colonel. Don't be angry. I suppose you wished it kept a 
secret, but Tom told me all about the baby this morning. The 
one he adopted for the picture, it came last night. 

Mae. What? The picture? 

Colonel. No, the baby, the one you picked out at the home. 

Mae (aside). He is talking in riddles. I had better humor 
him; then I may learn just what it is, about this baby of 
Tom's. (To Colonel) Oh, yes, I quite forgot. Yes, it is 
quite strange about the baby I must admit, but then you know, 
anything to be of assistance to Tom. (Aside) Wish I knew 
more about this baby. 

Colonel. That's the proper spirit. I am quite sure you 
two will be most happy together, you seem so well adapted 
for each other. 

Mae. I am pleased to know that you think so. (Aside) 
Tom doesn't, I'm sure. (To Colonel) I must be going. (Ris- 
ing) You won't tell Tom, will you, er — about — my 

Colonel. About what? 

Mae. About the mistake I made when I came in. 

Colonel (rising). On one condition. 

Mae. And that is? 

Colonel. That you make the same mistake again right 
now. 

ENTER James r. u. e. 

James. Did you ring, sir? 

Colonel (shaking his fist at James). I'd like to wring your 
neck. Where's Tom? 

Mae (to James). And where is the baby? 

James. The baby, shure an' Misther Tom has her out in the 
park for an airing, mim. 



Baby Scott. g& 

Mae. He has ! Well, then out in the park I go to see this 
mysterious child. [EXIT Mae c. d. followed by James. 

Colonel (returns to desk and commences to write). A nice 
sensible little woman. 

ENTER Mrs. Browne-Clarke c. d. in street attire. 

Mrs. Clarke. He is there! (Points at Colonel. Goes up 
l. as if to go to Colonel) Oh, dear! I almost wish I — 
(Stops, turns and comes to c.) but courage! Here goes. 
(Crosses to Colonel and puts hands over his eyes) Guess 
who it is? 

Colonel. Bridget ! 

Mrs. Clarke. You are wrong my dear Tom, guess again. 

Colonel. The washerwoman ! 

Mrs. Clarke. Sir! 

Colonel. Ah, excuse me; but you must admit you have a 
very unfair advantage of me. Although I must acknowledge, 
being blindfolded by such soft hands as those is a sufficient 
pleasure to warrant a man being held prisoner by them until 
" death-do-us-part." 

Mrs. Clarke (removing hands). And such is in your power 
to be, my dear Tom. 

Colonel (turns facing Mrs. Clarke). I beg your pardon, 
madame. 

Mrs. Clarke (retreating. Aside). Tom's uncle, the Colonel. 
(To the Colonel) I thought you were Mr. Thomas Scott. 

Colonel (rising). And so I am. I am the uncle. The 
other is my nephew, whom I take it you are looking for. 
(Aside) Seems a nice, old girl. (Aloud) Be seated. (Mrs. 
Clarke sits on sofa up stage. Colonel aside) Girl's mother, 
I suppose. (Aloud) You are a relative of my nephew, I pre- 
sume. (Sits on sofa l.) 

Mrs. Clarke. I — er — yes 

Colonel (aside). I thought so. (Playfully) I am afraid 
I shall have to be very angry with your daughter. 

Mrs. Clarke. My daughter. 

Colonel. There, there, don't be alarmed, I dare say I can 
put things right; but she's a sad, little puss, isn't she? 

Mrs. Clarke (feebly). I — I — don't know. . 

Colonel. But I dare say she's very fond of him, 

Mrs. Clarke. Who is? 

Colonel. Your daughter. 



SO fcaby Scott. 

Mrs. Clarke. Fond of whom? 

Colonel. Tom. 

Mrs. Clarke (faintly). I haven't a daughter. 

Colonel. I beg your pardon. (Turns away l.) A tender 
subject. (Turns to Mrs. Clarke) Your grand-daughter prob- 
ably? 

Mrs. Clarke. Sir! 

Colonel (aside). There's something wrong. (Rises. Aloud, 
bending well forward toward Mrs. Clarke) Did I not un- 
derstand you to say that you were a relative of Tom's? 

Mrs. Clarke. I did — er — say so. That is — you know 

Colonel. Will you not enlighten me as to your identity? 

Mrs. Clarke. At present you may call me Laura. I sup- 
pose you are the colonel. I trust we shall be friends. 

Colonel. Why? 

Mrs. Clarke. Because, you know, I am soon to be related 
to you. 

Colonel (alarmed). In what manner? 

Mrs. Clarke (simpering). By marriage. 

Colonel (aside). Great guns, is Tom engaged to two. (Falls 
back on sofa) Heavens and earth. (Appears overcome) 
Burton was right I should have taken a little something. 

Mrs. Clarke (with great dignity). Did you not see it in 
last night's society news? 

Colonel. Oh, yes, — er — Tom has just confided to me his in- 
tentions of becoming a Benedict. (Aside) Good gracious 
what kind of a scrape has Tom got into now. The other one 
was young and fair, while this one looks as if she might be 
a grass widow. (Aloud) Well, this is the biggest staggerer 
I have ever had in my life. No offense to you, you know. 

Mrs. Clarke (frigidly). Quite so. 

Colonel. But really it is too absurd for a lady of your age 
to marry. I beg you will acquit me of any wish to be rude. 

Mrs. Clarke. Oh, certainly. 

Colonel. But there must be something about you to cap- 
tivate a man, though where it is, goodness knows! I don't in- 
tend this unkindly. 

Mrs. Clarke. Oh, of course not. 

Colonel. Perhaps you were a beauty when you were 
younger, you perceive I possess a certain amount of delicacy. 

Mrs. Clarke (sarcastically). Any one could easily per- 
ceive that. 

Colonel (awkwardly). Just so. 



Baby Scott. 31 

Mrs. Clarke ( awkwardly). Certainly. 

Colonel {awkwardly). Of course. (Pause) Now I think 
we had better change the subject. 

Mrs. Clarke. If you wouldn't mind. 

Colonel. Now you must not encourage this extravagance. 
It is simply ruining the boy. 

Mrs. Clarke (half in tears). Am I? 

Colonel. You know you are, now, you know it won't do. 
If you were a young and giddy girl; which you are not, you 
admit that, don't you? 

Mrs. Clarke. It is needless to raise the question. 

Colonel. There might be some excuse for you, but, what 
do you want with showy dresses, jewelry, plays, parties, at 
homes, and such affairs, at your time of life. 

Mrs. Clarke (reduced to absolute misery). What — indeed! 

Colonel (taking her hand). Come now; you speak like a 
sensible old lady. (Sentimentally) I may have appeared 
harsh to you. 

Mrs. Clarke (brightening up). No, not at all. 

Colonel. I hope not. I hope not. But, I may — but then — 
let's say no more about it. 

Mrs. Clarke (kittenishly). I have not said anything about 
it as yet. 

Colonel (rising). You have not, that's a fact, and 
it shows your common sense. But I'll never say another word 
to hurt you — I think we understand each other — and we are 
friends, eh? (Shakes her hand and crosses to desk) 

Mrs. Clarke (rises quickly and wosses to l.). Where is 
Tom? (Aside) Oh, what I am suffering in trying to save 
Tom for Mae. 

Colonel. James just advised me that Tom was in the park 
giving the baby an airing. 

Mrs. Clarke (excitedly). The baby! 

Colonel. Yes, it came last night. I understood you knew 
all about it. 

Mrs. Clarke (confused). A baby! — oh — yes — I think I un- 
derstand. (Crosses to r. and looks out of door) 

Colonel (aside). But I guess she doesn't. This is getting 
too deep for me. Think I'd best surrender and withdraw be- 
fore I make a mess of it. (Picks up letters. To Mrs. Clarke) 
If you will excuse me, I have some important letters to mail. 
I'll find Tom and the baby and send them right up here. 
{Crosses to c. Aside) I'll just get hold of Tom and tell him 



88 Baby Scott. 

what an ass he is to marry such an old hen— but hold, there's 
the other one — I wonder which one is the future Mrs. Scott. 

[EXIT Colonel c. d. 
Mrs. Clarke (bows to Colonel. Then paces slowly around 
room). What does it all mean? Last night his apartments 
strewn with female apparel, now he's out in the park airing 
a baby. (Crosses to c.) Can it be he has clandestinely mar- 
ried and is just about to make it known. Oh, no, it must be 
some huge misunderstanding. 

ENTER James l. v. e. 

Mrs. Clarke (turning). Has Mr. Scott returned? 

James. No, mum, he's out with the baby. 

Mrs. Clarke. Now James ; I want to know what it is about 
this baby? 

James. Well, mim, you see, he got a tiligram last night 
saying as how a baby was coming here. 

Mrs. Clarke. And did it come? (Crosses to c. d.) 

James. Yes, mim; but it won't 

Mrs. Clarke. And where is it now? 

James. Down in the park with Mr. Tom. (EXIT Mrs. 
Clarke hurriedly c. d.) Well ivery body's seems to be going 
dippy over that baby. Now for an hour's study in me litereary 
pursuits. (Pulls novel from his back trousers' pocket. Sits on 
upper end of settee with feet drawn up, book on his knees) 
Let me see — Did the girl run over the train or did the hand- 
sum hero arrive in time to remove the train and save the 
million lives on board. 

ENTER Bridget r. u. e. 

Bridget (standing with both hands on hips). Now me laddy- 
buck; put down that book, (emphatically) put down that book, 
I say. (James puts book down on settee) Do ye know the 
front dure is open? 

James. Yis ! 

Bridget. Phwat's that fur? 

James (slowly removes feet from settee, turns and faces 
l.). Saves going an' answerin' the bell ivery time it rings. 

Bridget (after an admiring pause). This is not your first 
situation, I persoom? 

James (rises and slowly walks toward l. u. e. ). No, I have 
been out before. 



Baby Scott. 33 

Bridget. And you'll be out agin pretty sharp if ye don't 
watch ye p's and q's better. Come now, move about and don't 
let me hev to tell ye about it agen or else there'll be a row. 
D'y hear? (Bell rings) Go and answer that. 

James (slowly moves up c.) There; that's phwat I mean. 
(Arrives at c. d. turns to Bridget) I've got to go all the way 
now on purposes. (Pauses) Oh, Bridget, me darlint, ye have a 
lot yet to larn. [EXIT c. d., sighing 

Bridget (busy straightening up furniture etc.). Aw — go 
along ye lazy bones; ye will be the death o' me yit. But, 
(Lovingly) he's such a gude bye ye can't help luving him wid 
all his faults. 

ENTER Burton and Ralph c. d. They keep taking chairs 
and endeavor to keep out of Bridget's way. 

Burton. Good morning, Bridget. Has Tom succeeded in 
getting rid of the baby? 

Bridget (pausing with her work). She wouldn't go. 

Ralph. Why, how is that — Aw — er she surely must have 
seen her mistake by now. 

Bridget. She is not an English girl, an English maiden is 
commanded, an American commands. That is why Miss Baby 
is still here. 

Ralph. But the message from London. 

Bridget. Is there any harum in an American returning from 
London? 

Ralph. Won't his uncle, the colonel, make a row when he 
hears of it? 

Bridget. Ye naden't wurry yer head about that, sor. 

Burton. It strikes me, you know the young lady. Who is 
she? 

Bridget. That's a sacret, sor! 

Ralph. Aw, er — it is the women that tell secrets! 

Bridget. If I wanted anythin' towld all over New York City 
I'd whisper it to sum mon as a dead sacret, sor ! 

Burton. But Bridget, you can trust us as men of honor. 

Bridget (crosses to l. Stands with hands on hips). Do 
the wimmen inform on Ireland ! [EXIT l. u. e. 

Burton. There's one woman who wouldn't if she had a 
chance I am sure. 

Ralph. Tom is surely in a blooming hard fix now. 

Burton. Yes, with a young lady he cannot get rid of, Mrs. 



B4 Baby Scott. 

Browne-Clarke with another he must marry, and no one ever 
escaped from old Browne-Clarke. 

Ralph. Aw — er — yes — indeed, chappie. I — aw — understand 
she is the greatest matrimonial stock broker in America. 

Burton. But she has a heavy contract lassooing Tom into 
matrimony. 

Ralph. Aw — er — but — me deah fellah — she will do it, nevah 
feah. I — er — say — chappie — I'll wager you my Damascus 
sword against your statuette of Pysche that she marries him 
to Mae Stratton before snow flies. (Rises and comes to 
Burton. They shake hands) 

Burton (rising). Done. I've long desired to possess that 
sword of yours. 

ENTER James with two suit-cases or a small trunk c. d. and 
crosses l. 

Burton. I say James where are Tom and the baby? 

James (sets the baggage down sloioly). Down in the park 
for an airing. [EXIT l. u. e. 

Ralph. Aw — er — let's go to the park and see how Tom 
looks playing nurse. (Crosses to c. d.) 

Burton (crosses to c. d. Laughing). I'll bet you " Beauty" 
we'll find him neglecting his charge and flirting with a police- 
man. [EXIT Burton and Ralph c. d., laughing 

ENTER James l. u. e. crosses to r. u. e. 

James (looking after Burton and Ralph). There goes two 
more dippys gone daffy over one baby. I never did see such 
people. [EXIT r. u. e. 

ENTER Tom and Geraldine r. u. e. 

Geraldine (taking letter from coat pocket). I must give 
give you this letter, cousin Tom. (Hands him the letter) 

Tom (takes the letter). What, a letter for me? 

Geraldine. Yes, the one mamma wrote you before she died. 

Tom (opens the letter and reads. Pause. Looks at 
Geraldine). I understand it all now. You were sent to my 
uncle. He will be here shortly and you can give him the 
letter yourself. (Hands letter to Geraldine) 

Geraldine. I trust it won't be long, as I am very anxious 
to see him. [EXIT l. u. e. 



Baby Scott. 35 

Tom (sloivly removes gloves, places them in his hat, then on 
a chair. Deliberately removes overcoat, lays it across back of 
same chair that hat is on). How fortunate she didn't lose that 
letter. To think it is her child and sent to him. The colonel, 
I fear, will get into a great rage when he learns of it. Still, 
I think it best they meet alone. For woman can best win the 
heart of man. 

ENTER Colonel c. d. all out of breath and arms full of 
small packages, toys, etc., for a baby. 

Colonel (pausing). Here you are now. You rascal. What 
a chase you have given me, where is the baby? I bought some 
toys and jim-cracks for it on my way back — (Crosses to table 
lays toys down. Pushes hat back on head. Cross to Tom at c. 
pokes him in the ribs) Oh, by the way is it a boy or girl? 
( Chuckles ) 

Tom (startled). It's a girl! (Mechanically takes cigar from 
upper vest pocket and hands it to the Colonel) 

Colonel. But Moses wasn't a female. 

Tom (confusedly). Yes, I know, in fact, I wish it was a 
boy — I think you too would enjoy it better if it was a boy. 

Colonel. Well, trot it out; I can soon tell you. (Crosses 
to table at c.) 

Tom. I will send her to you. [EXIT l. u. e. 

Colonel (removes hat, coat and gloves, hangs them over 
back of a chair same as Tom did. Sits down b. side of table 
facing l.). Well, I declare if I am not all out of breath. I 
cannot race around like I used to. Old age is beginning to tell 
on me. ( Undoes packages revealing dolls, toys, etc. Picks up a 
jumping Jack) There, I guess that will amuse the baby. 

ENTER Geraldine l. u. e. with box and letter. 

Colonel (rising and looking at her with toy held up in the 
air). Geraldine! 

Geraldine (lays box and letter on the table and rushes to 
the Colonel). Oh, papa, I am so glad you know me. 

Colonel (collapsing). My God! Who are you? 

Geraldine (throwing herself on him with her arms around 
his neck. Kisses him). Baby, your own baby, Geraldine. 
(Kisses him, holds back and looks at him) Papa, you are a 
handsome man. (Colonel tries to release himself) Oh, you 



86 Baby Scott. 

are not used to girls kissing you are you? (Kisses him again) 
You will soon become used to it. Any one I love I am always 
kissing. (Hugs him) There, I've forgotten that letter again. 
(Jumps up and goes to table for letter) 

Colonel. What letter? Let me see it. (Geraldine hands 
him the letter and returns to table) 

Colonel (takes letter and reads). Great Gods, from my 
long lost Geraldine. She begs forgiveness of the man she had 
so grievously wronged, and requests that I be a father to 
her little Geraldine and never let her know her father. 

Geraldine (rummaging through box). Papa, here is your 
engagement ring. (Holds it up) And the locket with your 
picture and a lock of your hair. 

Colonel. Geraldine. This letter was written by your 
mother. 

Geraldine (goes to Colonel, sits on his lap and caresses 
him). Poor papa, poor papa. Sister Anges said your name 
was the last dear mamma called when dying. How she must 
have loved you and you could not even be with her when, sfre 
died. What a cruel fate it was that separated you. We shall 
never be separated again, papa. I shall be compensation for 
your cruel loss of mamma. 

Colonel (looking at letter). But you must never claim your 
father. 

Geraldine (jumping up). But I shall. You are my own 
dear papa ; and I shall not disown you. 

Colonel. My God! What am I to do! (Buries his face in 
his hands) 

Geraldine (kneeling at his feet. Hands clasped around his 
knees). I have always been taught to love you. My earliest 
remembrance is kissing your medallion good night. I could 
not sleep unless I kissed you. On moonlight nights, when all 
slept, I would creep to my dormer window to see you and 
holding the medallion in the light of the moon you looked a 
perfect benediction. And then I would ask you to bless me. 
When I read your letters to mamma I adored you. You love 
me don't you? 

Colonel (raising head in despair). I was never married 

Geraldine (quickly rising). Sir! (picks up box. Crosses 
to l.) To-morrow I return to the land where each man con- 
siders himself the individual guardian of woman's honor. 

Colonel (rising. Holding out both hands). Come back to 
me, Geraldine. (Crosses and meets her at c. d. Puts arm 
around ivaist, draws her to him in fond embrace and walks 



Baby Scott. 37 

down stage to c. ) Your mother was legally married. You shall 
be my own daughter. 

ENTER Mrs. Browne-Clarke and Burton, Mae and Ralph 
conversing low c. d., Tom l. u. e., James and Bridget 
r. u. e. 

Tom (looks first at Colonel and Geraldine then at c. d.). 
Damn Mrs. Browne-Clarke! 

Mrs. Clarke (pointing to Geraldine). Who is that young 
lady? 

Colonel (defiantly). My daughter! (Mrs. Clarke holds 
hands up in horror, Tom starts for Geraldine at a, Bridget 
shakes her head in a satisfied manner, All look up in surprise) 

SLOW CURTAIN. 

Second Curtain.— Mrs. Clarke in faint in chair, Mae kneeling 
at her feet rubbing Mrs. Clarke's hands, Bridget fanning 
her with apron, James bringing a glass of water, Ralph 
standing in c. d. mouth open, hands in pocket, feet stretched 
far apart. Colonel down stage with arm around 
Geraldine protectingly, Tom at one side holding her hand, 
Burton off front, bowing and shaking hands with 
Geraldine as if just introduced. 



ACT III. 



SCENE.— Same as Acts I and II, but arranged more as a parlor 
or living-room. Hallowe'en night, eight months later. 
Usual furniture including tables, chairs, etc. A screen 
in r. u. e. comer and a mirror on easel in l. u. e. corner are 
very necessary. DISCOVERED Colonel Scott seated l. 
of table at r. and Bridget standing at c. d. 

Bridget. Colonel Scott, I begs yer pardon, but I'd like to 
ask ye a few questions about the dinner for to-night. 

Colonel (turns and faces Bridget). I didn't hear you enter, 
Bridget, I was deeply engrossed in thought. 

Bridget. There's no nade of tellin' me that, Colonel, but what 
were ye a-scheming about, now? 



38 Baby Scott. 

Colonel. No, I cannot tell even you that, — until I see that it 
brings happiness to all concerned. Do you remember this night, 
twenty years ago? 

Beidget. Goodness, Colonel, don't be after bringing up such 
thoughts as them. 'Twill be different this time, I knows 'twill 
be. Why, Miss Geraldine, towld me only to-day how happy it 
made her to be able to call yer " father ; " an' she's been 
" fatherless " so long. 

Colonel. And, motherless too, but for you, Bridget. 

Bridget. The darlin', how could wan but help a-lovin' her, 
But what of Misther Tom? 

Colonel. He will arrive here to-night all the way from 
California. 

Bridget {jumping up and down with glee). An' he will, 
will he ! Ah, Colonel, be that wan of yer schames ye were just 
dreamin' about whin I cum in? 

Colonel. Oh, how long the last eight months have been to 
me, with Tom away ; it seems almost a life time. 

Bridget. I must go at once an' fix another place at the 
table for Misther Tom. 

Colonel. That's right, Bridget, for the bridegroom cometh. 

Bridget. An' Colonel, do ye too want this marriage of Tom's 
an' Miss Stratton? 

Colonel. It is a man's duty to wed. Of course, I do not 
approve of ill assorted marriages. There is one woeful ex- 
perience as fresh in my mind as though it occurred but yester- 
day. 

Bridget. I don't think, Colonel, there's any need of worryin' 
about Misther Tom, 'cause he knows of that woeful experience 
and probably dreads the fire like a burned child. 

Colonel (crosses to divan). Ah, Bridget, I trust that Tom 
thinks well of the little girl that has come into my heart and 
home. 

Bridget. Colonel, how can ye doubt it? True, he is a Scott, 
an' willing to sacrifice himself for a woman's happiness; but 
to be hoodwinked into marrying agin' his wishes by such a 
schaeming old trollop as Missus Browne-Clarke, never! 

Colonel. God knows, Bridget, I hope you are right. 

Bridget. But does Miss Geraldine know that Misther Tom is 
coming home to-night? 

Colonel. No, indeed, her surprise is the most charming 
feature of my plans. (Aside) Geraldine, my darling little 
girl, I never thought it possible I could ever love another 
as I loved your mother. 



Baby Scott. 39 

Bridget. Ah, Colonel, I never thought your heart would go 
out to another as it has to Geraldine. 

Colonel. Is it any wonder, her sweet ways, her innocent 
manner? They have wound themselves around my heart until 
I forgot everything, until now, even the past is blank. I only 
know that she has come into my heart like a ray of sunshine, 
and I love her as though she were my own daughter. Bridget, 
I can never part with her. 

Bridget. An' it is glad I am to hear you say that you love 
her. 

Colonel. Love her, how can I help but loving her, because 
day by day she reminds me more and more of the Geraldine 
that was so dear to me. 

Bridget. But, Colonel, won't ye come with me an' see if 
I've got the table fixed all right? 

ENTER Burton Rogers c. d., hat in one hand, suit-case in the 

other. 

Burton. Oh, don't mind me, good people. I wouldn't disturb 
such a delightful tete-a-tete for the world. 

Colonel (crosses to l. c. and shakes hands with Burton). 
You young warrior, tell us what has happened, you really seem 
in a hurry for once in your life. 

Burton (shaking hands with Bridget ivho has taken his suit- 
case). Hurry, did you ever see me when I wasn't in a hurry? 
I am taking records. A regular time directory. (Hands his 
hat. to Bridget. Takes note book out of vest pocket) Re- 
ceived your telegram, Colonel, at Philadelphia, at just 1 : 45 
P. M. Train left at 2 : 10 P. M. How much time do you sup- 
pose I lost in getting my presentable clothes into a presentable 
suit-case to get here presently to present myself in your 
presence at just 6 : 00 P. M. 

Bridget (laughs). Ah — Misher Burt, ye are just as funny 
as ever. [EXITS at c. d. and returns and listens. 

Burton. Has Tom made a better record than that and is he 
here ahead of me? 

Colonel. No, Tom's train, if on time, is not due at the 
Grand Central until seven o'clock. 

Burton. Then I'll finish it up presently by presenting my- 
self at the Grand Central to assist in presenting, presently, 
your present nephew once more in your presence in a present- 
able manner, 



40 Baby Scott. 

Colonel. My dear boy, I greatly fear for your presence of 
mind after all that. 

Bueton. Don't be alarmed, Colonel, that never went back 
on me yet. 

Bridget. Go then, Misther Burt, an' may me prayers an' 
blessin's go with ye. 

Burton. One moment! When do I see this fair cousin of 
mine? For six months I have been on the anxious seat but 
Dame Fortune has not favored me as yet. 

Colonel. Oh, you will see her sure; but not until you re- 
turn with Tom. 

Burton. That's right, feed a hungry man on expectations. 

Bridget (laughing). An' be jabbers, I'll see that the hungry 
man gets his rations all right when ye return with Masther 
Tom. 

Burton. Then, I go to yon depot; and if I return not with 
light step and flashing eye, I will not ask for a second piece of 
pie. [EXIT c. d. 

Bridget. Off wid ye, ye bundle of nonsense. 

Colonel. He and Tom have been friends since boyhood. 
When Tom started for California, the illness of Burton's mother 
prevented his accompanying him. I can look back and fancy 
them still children with their toys and ambitions. 

Bridget. But, Colonel, the table 

Colonel. Yes, yes, Bridget, I'll go and see it at once. 
(EXIT c. d., Bridget follows to c. d.) 

ENTER Geraldine r. u. e. She crosses to mirror and stands 
and examines her gown. Bridget turns and stands, with 
hands on hips, admiring her. 

Geraldine (walks up and down stage before mirror, still 
admiring her gown, but having difficulty in handling her train. 
Sees Bridget, parades up to c. d. and stops in front of her) 
How is my hair? 

Bridget. Foine as silk, me darlint. 

Geraldine. No, I don't mean that. I mean the arrange- 
ment. (Turning around) 

Bridget. As ye stand there, me darlint, ye are a pictoor to be 
seen. 

Geraldine. Bridget, how many engagements does it take to 
make a marriage. 

Bridget. How many engagements does it take to make a 



Baby Scott. 41 

marriage is it ye be after axing? It doesn't take an engage- 
ment a-tall, a-tall, me darlint 

Geraldine. Oh, but it does. 

Bridget. All it takes to make a marriage, darlin', is love. 

Geraldine. Love! (Goes up to Bridget and takes her face 
in her two hands) Now, Bridget, look me in the face and tell 
me how many kinds of love there are. 

Bridget. That depinds! 

Geraldine. There is no harm in my loving cousin Tom is 
there? 

Bridget. But, I wouldn't love him too hard. For min will be 
min. 

Geraldine (resumes walking around showing off her dress). 
Bridget, you haven't said how you like my new dress. It was 
my mother's wedding dress. 

Bridget (throwing up both hands). Saints and martyrs, 
yer mither's weddin' dress! 

Geraldine (stopping in front of her. And turning around). 
Isn't it lovely, Bridget? I intend to surprise papa. 

Bridget. For the love of Hiven, don't wear it, child. 

Geraldine. Mamma didn't wear it. It was not quite 
finished. I had it all re-arranged. Won't papa be surprised 
when he sees me. You are not admiring me; not once have 
you looked at me. (Turns and poses) Now, am I not like my 
mother? 

ENTER Colonel Scott c. d. Stops and looks at Geraldine. 

Bridget (crossing herself). May all the saints defind ye. 

Geraldine (turns and starts). Dear papa! (Stops. 
Colonel drops in chair l. and covers his eyes) 

Bridget (goes to Colonel). Look up, Colonel; shure an' it's 
only Miss Geraldine who wouldn't harm ye for the .world. 

Geraldine (throwing herself at his feet). Oh, papa, I am so 
sorry I put the dress on. Won't you forgive me, I'll take it 
off at once, if it pains you to see me in it. Only say you will 
forgive me. 

Bridget (goes to Geraldine and tries to take her away). 
Miss Geraldine, ye will kill him if ye ask him to forgive ye. 
Shure ye niver harmed him at all. 

Colonel (rising). Let her alone, Bridget. There is no cause 
for alarm. (He puts his arm around Geraldine and crosses 
to b.) I came in to tell Bridget (Looks at Bridget) that the 



4£ Baby Scott. 

table was satisfactorily arranged. (EXIT Bridget l. u. e. 
Colonel looks at his icatch) I must hurry and dress for din- 
ner. So there, little one, don't worry about the dress; for I 
freely forgive you. (Aside) As I did your mother years ago. 
(Crosses to r. u. e.) 

Geraldine. I will go to the conservatory and get a bright 
red rose for you or would you prefer a carnation to-night? 

Colonel. Suit your own dear self, little one. 

[EXIT Colonel and Geraldine. Arm in arm r. u. e. 

ENTER c. d. Mrs. Browne-Clarke and Mae Stratton. Cross 
to settee. Both sit. 

Mrs. Clarke. I have been looking for you the last half hour. 
How did you make out? 

Mae. Capitally, I am to have the trump card. I asked Miss 
Geraldine for a brooch to wear claiming the pin on the only one 
suitable that I had with me was broken and she has just now 
gone for the medallion. 

Mrs. Clarke. That is excellent. Affairs are shaping them- 
selves just as I've planned. For with you wearing the medal- 
lion upon the home-coming of Mr. Scott and in his own home, 
will give those in our set additional faith in the rumor of 
you two being engaged and influence him to stand by his 
honor. 

Mae. I wish I shared your confidence in Mr. Scott's sense of 
honor. He is a man, I know, above compromising himself by 
idle statements, but, I am told, will never marry except as 
directed by love. In fact, I fear his affection for Miss 
Geraldine is more than friendship or even cousinly. 

Mrs. Clarke. I too have been noticing that ; and if I find 
that Miss Geraldine is becoming too dangerous an obstacle to 
my plans, I shall set up such a hub-bub of scandal about her 
fair name that, both the uncle and nephew will gladly do any- 
thing to silence the tongue of the scandal mongers. This last 
plan will surely bring about what we desire, the alliance by 
marriage of young Scott and you. I have learned who this 
mysterious protege of the Scotts really is, her parentage, her 
relationship to the Scotts, in fact, I am at present in com- 
municaion with her lawful father and can instantly bring him 
here to claim and carry away his daughter. 

ENTER Geraldine r. u. e. 



Baby Scott. 43 

Geraldine. I trust I am not intruding. 

Mrs. Clarke (rushes up and Icisses Geraldine). No, not at 
all. We came over a trifle early. (Puts arm around 
Geraldine's waist and both cross to settee) 

Mae (rises and goes to Geraldine and Mrs. Clarke just 
before they reach the settee). I hope I did not cause you 
excessive trouble by my request. (Mrs. Clarke resumes her 
seat on settee) 

Geraldine (hands Mae the medallion) . You really offend me, 
by the mere mentioning of the word trouble. 

Mae (takes the medallion). I promise never to repeat the 
offense, so pray forgive me for this time. (Crosses to mirror 
and fastens the medallion at her neck) 

Geraldine. Then mind your p's and q's from now on. 
(Laughs) 

Mae (turns and crosses to settee). I never saw a medallion 
that I admired more. Don't you think it looks well as I have it 
on, Mrs. Clarke? 

Mrs. Clarke. You've done remarkably well, my dear, with- 
out your maid. (To Geraldine) Come sit down, dear. 
(Geraldine sits in chair near settee) 

Mrs. Clarke. You are just in time. We were discussing 
honor as the motive of marriage, and Mae, the poor girl, I dis- 
like to say, is so unsophisticated as to think some men are 
actually influenced solely by the dictations of the heart, rather 
than by that of ambition. 

Geraldine. Many a man has been trapped into marriage by 
the infatuation of ambition masquerading as love. 

Mae (has resumed her seat on settee by Mrs. Clarke). 
Then how would you marry? 

Geraldine. By marrying the man I loved and respected. 

Mae. But he might not wish to wed. 

Geraldine. Ah, there you give the greater reasons for my 
choosing him. 

Mrs. Clarke. Man's first thought should be woman's honor. 

Geraldine (pausing). Woman's honor can have no better 
protector than herself, mark you. Who will guard the honor of 
woman who willingly barters herself for gain, be it for wealth, 
for social position, or for any advantage gained through mar- 
riage. Woman should protect herself. She should be fortified 
by womanly dignity that would make error pause in her 
presence. American women have been educated and brought 
up in a different school from that of our European cousins. 



44 Baby Scott. 

They all are queens and they reign in the hearts of men and 
consequently govern them. 

Mrs. Clarke. Then you do not believe in love? 

Geraldine. My belief is so strong that I would not marry 
a man unless he loved me. 

Mae. Ah, but you just said you would not marry a man 
who wanted to marry you. 

Geraldine. Very true. The one who wants to marry is not 
necessarily the one who loves. I will say, however, that love is 
occasionally wedded. In such a marriage the thought is divine 
and is the only true marriage sacramental. Believe me, woman 
has a higher life than being the mere serf of man. 

ENTER Ralph c. d. Stands and looks at the ladies through his 

monocle. 

Mrs. Clarke. Come and sit down " Beauty." You will wear 
yourself out. Don't you know one should never stare. One 
well poised is never guilty of such vulgarity. 

Ralph. Aw — I say — my deah — Mrs. Clarke — don't call me 
names. Such an array of beauty — don't cher know — and I 
never could gaze upon beauty — unmoved — by Jove. 

Mrs. Clarke. So much greater is your sin. But, won't you 
join us? 

Ralph {crosses to them). Aw — weally — are you sure — I'm 
not de-trop. 

Mrs. Clarke. Such a silly question. We are only discussing 
the merits of different motives of matrimony. 

Mae. And your views will greatly influence our decision. 

Ralph. By Jove — that's a compliment — weally it is — don't 
cher know. 

Mrs. Clarke. And as your views will be those of a man of 
the world the greater will be their importance. 

Ralph (puffed with pride). Aw — my deah Mrs. Clarke — 
by — Jove — you weally flatter me — don't cher know. 

Geraldine. I am afraid our discussion upon love, honor, and 
obey is becoming rather too personal. - 

Ralph (crossing to back of chair by Geraldine). Aw — by 
Jove — do you know this is indeed a pleasure — don't cher 
know — to have an opportunity to chat with you before the 
others arrive. 

Mae. Especially the gentlemen, one has so little chance when 
they are around. They monopolize her so. 



fcaby Scott. 45 

Ralph. Aw — er — even I cawn't get a five word conversation 
with you — don't cher know — aw — er — yes ; I think the limit is— 
aw — two words — aw — yes, and no ! 

Geraldine. As a reward for that pretty speech I'll set out a 
dance or two with you to-night. 

Ralph. Weally Miss Geraldine you're not chaffing me. 

Mae. What do you say, Mrs. Clarke, to our playing the 
rubber with Ralph? 

Mrs. Clarke (rising). A most agreeable suggestion. (Mae 
rises and with Ralph crosses to l. u. e. followed by Mrs. 
Clarke) Won't you come, Miss Geraldine, aud keep score? 

Geraldine. No, thank you. I have to wait here for uncle. 

I have a commission to perform. A floral offering as it were. 

[EXIT Mae, Ralph and Mrs. Clarke l. u. e. 

Burton (off stage at c. d.). Ding, dong, ding, the wanderer 
at last. 

ENTER Burton c. d. followed by Bridget, who remains at c. D. 

Burton. Well, we got here at last. (Sees Geraldine r. 
Makes a rush for her, stumbles) Confound it, that is the fifth 
time I've stubbed my toe to-day. 

Bridget. An', now I suppose ye wants yer hungry man's 
rations. (Motions her head towards Geraldine) 

Geraldine (crosses to c. Meets Burton). Why, cousin 
Burt, this is indeed a surprise and a pleasure. When did you 
come, how is your dear good mother, when did you leave 
Philadelphia, why didn't you write so that uncle could have met 
you with the car? 

Burton (takes both her hands). One question at a time my 
fair cross-examiner. (Holds her from him. Looks her all 
over) My, but you beauty, you grow prettier every day, ye 
God's 'tis every minute. (Turns her around) How perfectly 
gowned you are to-night. That dress becomes you so. 

Geraldine. I am glad that you think so. It was one 
that 

Bridget. Come, Mr. Burton, you haven't much time to dress 
for dinner. You know the colonel is very particular about his 
meals being served on time. 

Burton. Thanks awfully, Bridget, for bringing me back to 
earth. (To Geraldine) I'm off, fair charmer, fittingly to 
prepare the outer man for the inner man's feast. 
EXIT l. u, e. Geraldine crosses to fireplace, sits on hassock 
and puts chestnuts in the fire, 



46 Baby Scott. 

ENTER Tom Scott r. v. e. 

Tom. Bridget, where is Miss Geraldine? (Bridget silently 
points to the fireplace) 

Geraldine (rises and turns). Oh, cousin Tom. (Starts to- 
wards him hut suddenly stops and looks at him) 

Tom (holding out both hands to Geraldine). Cousin 
Geraldine, are you not coming to kiss me? 

Geraldine (laughing). Bridget says it is wrong to even 
kiss one's own cousin. (Bridget stands at c. d. ivith hands 
on hips laughing) 

Tom. The chaperon. Be so good, Bridget, as to request 
your charge to receive her cousin becomingly. 

Bridget (reprovingly). Misther Tom 

Tom. I claim all my cousinly rights; you kissed me when 
we first met. 

Geraldine. Oh, cousin Tom, you know I thought you were 
my papa then, and I have been sorry ever since that I kissed 
you. 

Tom (starts for her). Very well. I shall give it back to 
you. 

Geraldine (running back of chair). But I do not wish to 
part with it. (Tom sits on settee laughing. EXIT Bridget 
c. d. laughing. Geraldine returning to seat at fireplace) 
Cousin Tom, your fortune is over here. 

Tom. I am well aware of it. 

Geraldine (pointing with tongs at chestnuts in the fire). 
This one is Mae and this one is you. If they burn together it 
is all right, if you should jump into the fire or should she, then 
you will not marry. 

Tom. I am afraid there will be some jumping in this case. 

Geraldine. She is going, cousin Tom. Look she is getting 
ready to jump. Goodness, Miss Stratton is going — no — yes. 
Who would have believed it, cousin Tom, it is you who jumped 
into the fire. (Looks at Tom. Goes and sits by him) Are 
you in trouble? 

Tom. Yes, I am. 

Geraldine (slowly rises). I am coming back. (Goes to 
fireplace and inspects chestnuts, turns and looks at Tom, 
returns back to settee and lays her hand on his head, laugh- 
ingly) Cousin Tom, you have an attack of the blues. (Tom 
moves so hand falls off) You are a real old bear and won't let 
your cousin sympathize with you. Do you not want sympathy? 



Baby Scott. 47 

Tom (turning and taking her hand). No, I am not in want 
of sympathy. It is starvation to a man who is 

Geealdine (running to fireplace). Oh, cousin Tom, Mae 
Stratton has jumped into the fire. 

Tom (rises and crosses to l.). Hang Mae Stratton! Will 
no one take her out of my life? 

Geealdine (holding chestnut in tongs). Look at Mae! 

Tom (crosses to her and takes hold of tongs as if to wrest 
them from her). Is there no law ancient or modern that can 
govern American girls? 

Geealdine. What an odd question. (Nut drops) Oh, Mae 
has fallen on the floor. 

Tom. Do they ever fall in love? (Takes tongs) 

Geealdine. No, if you fall, you will have to pick yourself 
up. American girls love naturally ; just as I love you, cousin. 

Tom (puts tongs in place and quietly sits on settee). But 
do you? 

Geealdine (taking seat beside him). Indeed I do. I can 
prove it by the medallion, which is a perfect picture of you. 
That is the only love I have had for eighteen years. 

Tom. But where is the medallion? Has your love ceased? 

Geealdine. No indeed, it has not, I let Mae Stratton take 
it to wear this evening. 

Tom (rising). You did— ( Walking) Then I am lost. 

Geealdine. Cousin Tom, come here, let us play cats cradle. 
Oh, do, you will get so tangled that 

Tom. Good heavens. Am I not tangled enough now? 
(Leans over back of settee) Will you never learn? 

Geealdine. Learn what? 

Tom. Can't you see? 

Geealdine. See what? I see that you are an old bear, but 
I love you. 

Tom. Is it possible that an American girl can only be won 
by an English nobleman? 

Geealdine. Cousin Tom, why don't you learn, can't you see, 
that true American girls would not barter their birthright for 
a foreign title, I mean those who marry for love. 

Tom. Love. You don't know what love is. 

Geealdine. Yes, I do. It is an untaught mysterious 
sympathy. 

Tom. Not known by cousinly affection. It's melodies awake 
in the heart of the stranger— (Geealdine jumps up. Tom 
rises and walks away) 



48 Baby Scott. 

Geraldine (starts to follow him). Why, cousin, you are 
angry with me. (Tom turns. She goes up to him) Cousin 
Tom, you do not love me any more. 

Tom (clasps her to him). By the eternal. I could not love 
you any more. (Geraldine breaks away from him) Do you 
not believe me? 

Geraldine (laughing). No, Bridget taught me not to be- 
lieve one word a man said to me. [EXIT r. u. e. 

Tom. You little vixen. I wish you had some of the educa- 
tion of the Browne-Clarke school, so one could find you more 
approachable. 

ENTER Ralph c. d. 

Ralph. Why, here's Tom. 

Tom. How are you, old chap? (Tom and Ralph shake 
hands as they meet. Tom sits at r. of center table. Ralph 
sits opposite him) 

Ralph. Where is your man, James? 

Tom. I am worried about him. 

Ralph. Didn't he come with you? 

Tom. No, when I arrived at Buffalo I had some business 
to attend to, so I let him have the afternoon to himself and 
that is the last I have seen of him. 

Ralph. Aw — but chappie boy — weally you have no reason 
to worry about him. Aw — he'll find his way here all right, 
don't cher know. 

Tom. I suppose he did not know of the change of time at 
Buffalo which caused his missing the train. 

James (singing off stage at c. d.). Whin yer up, yer up, 
an' whin yer down, yer down, an whin yer in the middle, yer 
nayther up or down, tra-la-la-le. 

Ralph. By Jove — old chap — there he is now. 

ENTER James c. d. Crosses to Tom. 

Ralph. James — aw — old chap — what time is it? 

James. Begorra, an' me watch is an hour slow. It never 
did that afore, by jabbers, I'll have to get a new wan. 

Tom (severely). Come, give an account of yourself. 

James. I begs yer pardon, Misther Tom, but I'se no count, 
I'm just plaihn James. 

Tom. That will do. Where were you in Buffalo? 



Baby Scott. 49 

James. It's where I hain't bin, 'twould after be aiser tellin'. 
But you see, Misther Tom, ye be afther twoldin' me Oi could 
have the afternoon off, so Oi wint to the foot ball game up 
at the Base Bawl Park. Did ye iver go to a feet ball game, 
Misther Tom? Sor? Yis sor. There wuz a hump back mon 
in the grand sthand what calls a full back mon on the 
blaychers a moss back, an' thin he goes way back an' sits down 
and niver comes back eny moore. An' we's all gets our quarter 
back Misther Tom; Sor. Yis, Sor — an' we's — Eh? 

Tom. Well then where did you go? 

James. Shure, sor, and Oi didn't go. Oi lift, sor, yis sor. 
Oi lift. An' as Oi was a coming out o' the merry go round 
mas-chine at the front dure — of the base bawl park 

Tom. That's not a merry go round. That's a 

James. No. Well phwat the divil was it then, but a merry 
go round. Oi goes in it — an' eround an' eround Oi go until 
Oi'm that dizzy Oi thinks me name is Izzy, when a gossoon 
grabs me by me lift arum and pulls me out, or Oi'd be afther 
going eround the blame owld mas-chine yit. 

Tom. That is the turn stile. 

James. The turn stoiyle did ye soy. Well, meb-be it 'twas. 
But Oi don't think mooch o' the stoiyle, me-self. Sor. No, sor. 
Oi don't sor. An' jist as Oi gets loose, Oi looks at me watch 
an' I sees Oi've got tin minutes to catch the train, and Oi hustles 
tew the hotel, an' finds ye hev gone. Thin a messanger bye 
cums in an' sezs, sezs he, sign the book. Not on yer loife, sezs 
Oi. Oi don't sign no ignorant doky-ments. Oi didn't want him 
to know Oi couldn't read writing, Misther Tom. So Oi axes 
him pwhat the yillow bit o' paper do be afther saying. So Oi 
sticks me two fingers in his two ears while he tells me pwhat 
the devil bit O' pace of yellow paper do be afther saying. 

Tom. What did you put your fingers in his ears for? 

James. Shure an' so he coo'dn't hear pwhat the letter said, 
sor, yis sor ! 

Tom. Well what did the letter say? 

James. As how me watch was slow an' that ye had lift an' 
hour ago for Noo York. An' fur me to come on at wunce; an' 
here Oi be an' me watch is still wun hour slower dan it's here 
in Noo York, sor, yis sor. 

Tom. Well, you may go now, James. Bridget will be 
anxious to interview you. [EXIT James l. u. e. 

ENTER Burton c. p. and takes a seat on settee at R, 



50 Baby Scott. 

Tom. You two are just the ones I want to see the most. I 
have a favor to ask. 

Burton. Granted. 

Ralph. What is it? 

Tom. Miss Stratton has borrowed from cousin Geraldine the 
medallion that so much resembles me and I wish one of you 
would get it before all the world sees it and talks. 

Ralph. Why don't you do it yourself? 

Tom. I am afraid I might say something intentionally 
unkind and the good will of even a dog is better than the ill 
will. 

Burton. Why have you invited them here? 

Tom. Simply for this reason. Instead of fleeing to the 
frozen regions of the Klondyke or Saskatchewan or surrender 
to this matrimonial match-making Blue Beard, I have had my 
uncle invite them as guests for the week end and walked into 
the social arena and thrown down the gauntlet to Mrs. Browne- 
Clarke. 

Burton. Good for you. I admire your courage. We will do 
our best to secure the return of the medallion. 

Tom (rising). I knew you would, old boy. (Takes Burton's 
hand) And you can do it so much better than I. You are so 
much more diplomatic. [EXIT r. u. e. 

Ralph. Aw — er — who all is going to be here to-night; 
chappy-boy? 

Burton. Everybody. 

Ralph. And soon the time will be set for the wedding and 
presents, my dear fellow, don't cher know. 

Burton. Whose wedding? 

Ralph. Quit your chaffing, chappy. Why Tom's, of course. 
It's all settled, my deah fellah. He is going to marry Miss 
Stratton, aw — er — it's the talk of the club, don't cher know. 

Burton. Never. 

Ralph. Aw, but I say yes. My deah boy. There's nothing 
surer. She is here an honored guest and have they not been 
walking, riding, driving, and talking altogether all the time. 
'Pon my word, where are your eyes. Why, hang it, I've even 
seen them whispering. So my good fellah, you can just hand 
over to me your Psyche affair. That was the wager, don't 
cher know. 

Burton (rising). So you say. But that doesn't make it so. 
As for Pysche, that is not yours as yet. Come, get up 
" Beauty " and call forth your latent energy. Here come the 
ladies. 



Baby Scott. 51 

ENTER Geraldine and Tom c. d. followed by Mrs. Clarke and 
Mae, who in turn are followed by Bridget and James. 
The ladies take seats about the room. Bridget and James 
stand together at c. d. Burton and Ralph, join the 
different ladies and carry on conversation in pantomime. 

Mrs. Clarke. Since all seems sunshine once more, let us 

begin the merry-making of the evening. Ralph, remember you 

are master of ceremonies. How shall we begin, with a dance? 

James (at c. d. starts to dance). A dance. 

Bridget. James, you know I never allow you to dance. 

(Music cue. A Virginia Reel) 

The Others. A dance, a dance. (Tom and Geraldine, 
Burton and Mrs. Clarke, Ralph and Mae all take their 
positions to dance the Virginia Reel, but finish by all joining 
hands in a circle. James dancing in corner at r. when Bridget 
is not looking breaks under hands in c. of ring at end of dance 
of the others and dances a break down. Bridget joins James 
in c. of ring. They dance together until Bridget dances James 
out and he drops on the floor at l. corner. All laugh heartily) 

Burton (crossing over to l.). I told you, James, that 
Bridget was the only dancer in this house. 

Bridget. You blessed bye jest for that ye git a second piece 
of pie. 

Burton. Well, come, come, let's see what's next. Oh, I 
know, a tub of apples. 

Tom (goes to c. d.). Here they are now, I have been 
wondering what sort of a contrivance they were. (James 
assists Tom to bring in the tub of apples) 

Tom (at l. u. e. calls off stage to Colonel). Ho, Colonel, 
come and join us, we are about to celebrate Hallowe'en in 
proper style. 

Colonel (off stage at l.). You'll have to excuse me for a 
while longer, Tom, I've some important business letters to 
write. 

Mae. What's up now? 

Ralph. Aw — er — Miss Stratton, don't cher know, aw — we 
first bob for apples — that is — you know; the first two that get 
the apple, man and woman are fated to wed each other before 
this time next year, by Jove, (Looking lovingly at Mae) do 
you know I hope you and I get the apple. 

Mrs. Clarke (disapproving of Ralph's advances). Absurd. 

Everybody Else. Good, good, 



62 Baby Scott. 

James. Fine. 

Bridget. James, you will not bob. 

James. Why, Bridget, it'll be easier than proposing. 

Bbidget. If you bob, I'll not bob, the idea of being tied up 
to you with a marriage knot all the rest of my days. (Tom 
and Bubton bring the tub down c. of stage) 

Burton. Now here you are, go at it. 

Tom (to Mae). Now our fair guest, you bob first. 

Mae. Please don't let me fall in. (Tom and Burton hold 
her hands. She makes several attempts. All laugh heartily. 
Supposed to get her face in the water. Does not get apple. 
Goes up stage) 

Bridget. Now I will try. (Starts for tub) 

James. Bridget, let me hold you. (Bridget stoops and starts 
to bob for the apples. Burton holds her hands back. Bridget 
bobs and gets all wet) 

James (coming over to tub). Look out! 

Bridget (with a mouthful of water). Silence! (Makes 
another attempt. James watches her and Bridget goes way 
down in tub) 

James. That ain't fair; to wade in after the apple. 

Bridget (gets up making a great fuss. Shakes her fist at 
James). Oi'm half a mind to wade into ye, ye blathering 
spalpeen ! 

James (seats Bridget in a chair and wipes her face. Fanning 
her with the towel ring side fashion). Riddy be ye, Bridget, 
for the second round. 

Burton. Now, Ralph, you try. 

Ralph. Aw — pawdon — me; but I don't think it good form 
to bob for apples, don't cher know. 

All. Oh, come on, Ralph, don't be so fussy ! 

Ralph. All right. I'll try. (Bobs three times and is not 
successful. Crosses to Mae and in loud whisper) Aw — Miss 
Stratton — do you know — had you got the apple, I'd died before 
I would have given up, bah Jove, I would, don't cher know. 

All (laugh). Sour grapes. Sour grapes. 

Tom. Now, Geraldine, you must try. 

Geraldine (comes to tub). You want me to snap at one of 
those things, that's easy. (She does so and brings up an apple 
the first time. Laughs) 

All (laugh). Good. Good. 

Burton. Good, good, Geraldine is the bride and now for the 
groom. 



Baby Scott. 53 

James. Me, me, let me be the groom. (Starts for the tub) 

Bridget (jumping after him and pulling him back). James, 
if ye git that apple Oi'll sue ye for breeches of promise; after 
me hevin' ye propose to me three times a day the past tin years. 

Tom. All right, James, you may try it. 

Bridget. Don't ye do it, me darlint, ye'll be drowned. 

James. Certainly. (As he starts for the tub) 

Bridget (standing before him). Misther Tom, would ye be 
afther robbing Bridget Malone of her treasuer? (Embraces 
James) 

Tom. Well then, Burt, you're next. [EXIT James c. d. 

Burton (goes to tub). The God of Love knows I hope to win. 
(Smiles at Geraldine) 

Mrs. Clarke. And I pray to the same God that you do win. 

Burton (bobs three times and is not successful. Arises and 
crosses to Geraldine). Somehow, I've displeased the Court 
of Cupid. 

Bridget. Now, Misther Tom, it be ye turn. An' it's me 
that's a hoping and praying ye will win. (With a knowing 
wink looks at Mrs. Clarke) 

Tom. With your prayers, Bridget, one can hardly fail. 
(Goes to the tub and makes one unsuccessful attempt to get the 
apple) You'll have to pray harder than that, Bridget. 

Bridget (looking savagely at Mrs. Clarke). Begorra, I'll 
pray harder than some one else that I know of. (Tom makes 
another attempt and fails. All laugh) 

Tom. Oh, I'll do it; if only for the sake of being groom 
to so fair a bride. (Makes a third attempt. This time he 
gets the apple) 

All (general laughter). Good, good, Geraldine the bride and 
Tom the groom. 

Bridget (rushes up to Tom). An' shure, Misther Tom, old 
Bridget's prayers were answered. [EXIT hurriedly l. u. 

ENTER James c. d. Tom as James ENTERS throws him the 
apple, which James catches. 

James. The musicians have arrived, and the colonel is wait- 
ing for ye all in the dining room. (Music cue for orchestra 
to play a faint waltz) 

Tom (crosses to Geraldine). As your prospective liege and 
lord, I claim the first dance. (Geraldine places her hand on 
Tom's arm and they EXIT c. d. followed by Ralph and Mae, 



54 Baby Scott. 

who in turn are folloiced by Mrs. Clarke and Burton, after 
Burton has offered her his arm as Tom did his to Geraldine. 
The orchestra ivill continue playing the icaltz, faintly, until the 
re-entrance of Ralph and Mae after the scene between James 
and Bridget) 

ENTER Bridget l. u. e. 

James (going totvard Bridget). Ah, there, me little humming 
bird, at lasht Oi've notched ye an' Oi'll not let ye eschape so 
aisly this toime. 

Bridget. Sure now, be ye spakeing to me or to wan of the 
nay-burs? 

James. Oora, oora, none of ye airs me doisy. Shure an' it's 
ye me swate crature that Oi be afther addrissing. 

Bridget. Aw gwan an' shure what is it ye wish? 

James. Aw gwan wid ye. Luk at the loidys' airs, will ye. 
It's aboot a wee bit o' dibt ye be afther owin' me. 

Bridget. A dibt, do ye say? Shure an' I wasn't aware of 
any finonsensical obligations to ye? 

James. Sich langoo-age; sich talk an' so many free schools. 
Oi say shurely ye recollect owin' me a kiss fur a blow, do 
ye not? 

Bridget. Oh, yis — Oi do, now that you sphake of it. Do ye 
want me to pay ye right here before all these folks? (Crosses 
to c.) 

James. There's nothing loike having a plenty o' witnesses. 
(Starts to kiss her) No, Oi'll not collict it now. ' Oi'll wait an' 
get interest wid it. It will be that mooch swater. But Bridget, 
me darlint.' (Takes her hand and drops on knees) Me own 
swate colleen. Oi — er — ye take — Oi — Bridget — (Aside) Be- 
gorra Oi'm stuck all riddy. (To Bridget) Bridget me darlint 
— me own — me — me — (Aside) Begorra, stuck agin. Where's 
that book? (Commences looking through his pockets) 

Bridget (laughing). Have ye lost anything? 

James. Nothing but me spache. (Producing book from his 
pocket he holds it in one hand at his side) Here it is. Bridget 
me darlint, me own swate love, the apple of me oiye. Oi take 
1 u ' — u — a-u — au — ' g ' — a-u-g — aug — ' u ' — augu — ' s ' — agus — 
' u ' — u — a — u — au — 'g ' — a-u-g — aug — ' u ' dugu — ' s ' — dugus — 
1 1 ' — t — august 

Bridget (winking). But it's not August; ifs October. 



Baby Scott. 55 

James. Oi know that; but this was written for me summer 
girl down at Cooneys Oile — and, but don't ye be afther in- 
terrupting. Now once more — Bridget me darlint, me swate love, 
I take this 

Bridget. October. Oi'm yer autumn girl. 

James. Oh, yis. Oi take this October occasion to impart to 
you the inflamation that's ateing up me heart 

Bridget (laughing). The what 

James. The — the — (Loses Ms place) Where was Oi at — 
Oh, yis the inflamation — didn't Oi say — Quit yer laughing — — 

Bridget. The inflamation? 

James. Yis, that's what is written, rotten, wrotten, here. 
What is the matter with that? 

Bridget. Oh, nothing. Only if it is sarious ye should use 
some Omego He. 

James. Phwaht did Oi soy about interooping. The inflama- 
tion that is ateing me heart up for ye me darlint — An' — (Loses 
his place. Fumbles with the book trying to find it. While 
doing so ENTER Ralph with Mae c. d. Bridget winks and 
points to James then EXIT l. u. e. James finds place holds 
book on floor with both hands and proceeds) An' Bridget; 
Oi'm not a handsum mon for looks ; an' Oi know me face is 
twisted but Oi've got $500 to start a corner grocery with; an' 
soon Oi'll be a alderman an' thin ye can have silks and satins 
and dimonds; if ye'll only marry me. 

Ralph. The personification of Ireland courting home rule. 
(Laughs) James, your lady love has flown. (James rises looks 
crest fallen and sheepishly around, and hurriedly EXIT 
r. u. e.) 

Mae. This house seems quite a love bower now. Even James 
is capering around Cupid. Bridget has riddled his heart. 
(Crosses to stand and arranges the books and flowers at r.) 

Ralph. It looks as if hearts were trumps. (Crosses to table 
by side of Mae) 

Mae. Now really that is a very bad joke. But I will excuse 
you this time. 

Ralph. And you will give me Miss Geraldine's medallion. 
For surely you do not wish to sail under false colors. 

Mae (turning). I wasn't aware that I was 

Ralph. Surely you would not want to marry a man that 
does not love you? 

ENTER Colonel l. u. e. 



56 Baby Scott. 

Colonel (excitedly). Tom — where are you? (Sees Miss 
Stratton. Speaks to her and bows) Miss Stratton, I beg 
your pardon ; I thought Tom was here. ( Turns to Ralph ) 
Ralph, do you know where Tom is? (Walks up and down 
stage) 

Ralph. I will go and send him to you. 

Mae. Mrs. Clarke will be looking for me. (Crosses to c. d.) 
You will kindly excuse me? 

Ralph (following). The medallion. (Mae hands it to him) 
Thanks, I am sure, were you and Tom to become better 
acquainted there would develop a friendship that would 
demonstrate to the world that there are other relations between 
man and woman than the marital. Don't think me rude for 
what I have just said. Will you? (Bows to her) 

Mae. No, indeed; and I like you better for what you have 
said. [EXIT both c. d. 

ENTER Tom r. u. e. 

Tom (crossing to Colonel). Pray what is it uncle? 

Colonel. About Geraldine. 

Tom. About Geraldine. What about her? 

Colonel. He is coming to take her away. 

Tom. Take her away! He! Who? 

Colonel. Her father ! 

Tom. Her father. Who is her father? Where has he been 
all these years. (Cross to c. Take seats each side of table. 
Tom at r. The Colonel at l.) 

Colonel (sitting in chair). You have doubtless often 
wondered why I have remained single all these years and I too 
have often wondered at it myself. But love once misplaced 
is not readily forgotten. When I was young like you, my 
boy, I loved as fondly and sacredly as man ever loved a woman. 
That woman was Geraldine's mother and in Geraldine I see the 
Geraldine of my youth. She was a distant cousin of the 
family. Our love seemed mutual and we became engaged. 
Our bethrothal was looked upon with favor by both families. 
They took her to Europe for a trip. For a time we wrote con- 
stantly, our letters filled with terms of endearment known only 
to lovers. Then came a time they became less frequent and 
finally they ceased entirely, until one day I received the greatest 
blow of my life. She asked for her release, as she was about to 
marry an English nobleman, Lord Lester. I granted it; al- 
though no one knows what it cost me. They were married only 



Baby Scott. 57 

Six short mohtjis, When she left him, for he proved to be the 
usual bankrupt member of nobility with all estates mortgaged 
double their value. She was unable to stand the life of shame 
and duplicity he led, for he was a licentious man, always in 
some public intrigue or scandal. She resided in London under 
a separate roof for a short time, then entered a convent and 
shortly afterwards died broken hearted, leaving behind her a 
living minature of herself in the Geraldine you know and whom 
I have learnt to cherish and love as if she were my own flesh 
and blood. She left a letter requesting me to be a father to 
her and never let her know who her real father is. This I 
have tried to do, but some one has informed him and he is 
coming for her. Good God, am I to have nothing to love? Must 
that Englishman step in again between me and the object of my 
affections? (Head bows down into his hands on the table) 

Tom (clenching his fists and rising). This is some of Browne- 
Clarke's devilish work. 

Colonel (raising his head). Tom, my boy, what are we to 
do? 

Tom. Do, uncle? Why, leave it entirely with Geraldine, 
when he comes for her. Her heart will decide for the best. 
If she wishes to go with her father, for the sake of her happi- 
ness, we will not interfere. 

Colonel (rising). You know what is best, Tom. My head 
is all confusion. But if she goes, my God, it will kill me. 

[EXIT Colonel r. u. e. 

Tom. So Geraldine's father is an English Lord. Will she go 
with him? Will she leave her new found friends for one whose 
claim is just; but she knows not. I hope Browne-Clarke is 
satisfied. (Crosses to l.) She has raised the question of 
Geraldine's parentage and proceeds to answer it herself by 
producing her father to claim and take her away from those 
who have learned to love her most dearly. (Crosses to c. d.) 
It is all in interest of her designs to capture me for a husband. 
But she shall not gain by it. For if Geraldine leaves us my 
apartment shall ever be that of a bachelor. (Lights turned 
down dim) 

ENTER Geraldine l. u. e. Tom hides behind screen. 

Geraldine (goes to mirror. Holds lighted candle up high) 
My true love, my love true love 
Whoever you be 
Come and look into this mirror with me. 



58 Baby Scott* 

(Tom comes from behind screen and stands behind her) 

Geraldine. It is cousin Tom. 

Tom. No, it is not cousin Tom. 

Geraldine. But I know it is you. 

Tom. How do you know? 

Geraldine. I saw you peep over my shoulder. {Lights 
turned up) 

Tom. Tradition says your future husband will do that. 

Geraldine {placing her hand in his). It is you ! 

Tom {clasping her to him). Yes it is. This is my chance and 
by all the Gods of Cupid and Hymen I know my opportunity. 

ENTER Burton and Ralph l. u. e. 

Burton. Well, " Beauty " I have been hunting everywhere 
for you. I want you to hand over that sword. My boy, you 
need not look so innocent. I have just met Miss Stratton and 
she told me you were subject for congratulations. (Geraldine 
and Tom go up to them) 

Geraldine. You are not going to marry Miss Stratton? 

Ralph. She has said she would marry me. 

Geraldine. Then you are subject for congratulations and I 
offer you mine. {Shakes hands with Ralph) 

Ralph. Thank you, as yours are the most desired. 

[EXIT Geraldine r. u. e. 

Tom. You surely are not going to marry a woman who has 
graduated in the Browne-Clarke school? 

Burton. In trying to save you from the meshes of matrimony 
he has entangled himself. As the meshes were formed of 
threads of gold he forgot the demands of his heart, in satisfy- 
ing his taste for ease and luxury. 

Tom {grasping his hand). My dear martyr friend I con- 
gratulate you. You will have to reduce your life to rule and 
measure and fit it with scales of proper proportions. {Crosses 
to mantel and stands) 

ENTER Bridget l. u. e. 

Bridget. So it is ye— Misther Ralph, that be afther marry- 
ing. Do ye understand that marriage cuts y'er loife here and 
snips it there, lets go this buckle, an' pulls in that strap, until 
ye become a compound circumstance. 

Burton. Yes, yes, but you forget, Bridget, Miss Stratton 
has stocks bonds, and rentals. 



Baby Scott. 59 

Bridget. You modern Hottentot the only safe road to 
matrimony is love. 

Ralph. Very good for luncheon, but mighty lenten for 
dinner. 

ENTER Mae and Mrs. Clarke c. d. 

Mae (going up to Ralph. Gushing). Ralphie dear, Mrs. 
Clarke didn't know. 

Mrs. Clarke. A thousand pardons my dear, I thought at 
first it was only a house-party lark. I'll make amends for my 
dullness by celebrating your bethrothal. It is hard to catch 
a man. (Looks at Tom) But I will help you to hold on 
to him. (Ralph and Mae sit on settee. Busily conversing) 

Burton. Be careful, Bridget. Look at them now. They 
are in the cooing age. " Beauty " knows what he is about and 
has feathered his nest. [EXIT Bridget c. d. 

ENTER Colonel excited l. u. e. Crosses to r. and back. 

Colonel. Where is he? 

Tom (advancing). Here I am. My God, what has hap- 
pened ? 

Colonel. He has come for her; Geraldine's father. 

Tom. Geraldine's father. (Crosses to Mrs. Clarke) This 
is some more of your diabolical scheming. 

Mrs. Clarke (shrugging shoulders). My dear Mr. Scott, 
you fly into a passion so easily. My schemeing! Indeed! It 
seems that every time anything goes amiss you accuse me of 
being the instigatior of it. Why, if Geraldine has a father — 
it is but natural he should desire to have her with him 
rather than residing with strangers. 

Tom. Have a care. You may go too far. You have failed 
in one scheme to have me obey your will and, by all that is 
sacred, you will again fail. (Leads the Colonel to a chair) 

Mrs. Clarke. We shall see. 

Colonel. No, I won't sit down; a chair wouldn't hold me. 
(Resumes his pacing) 

ENTER Geraldine r. u. e. Stops in amazement. Looks from 
one to another as if seeking an explanation for their ex- 
cited appearances. ENTER James c. d. ivith card tray, 
which he hands to Geraldine. 



60 Baby Scott. 

Geraldine (takes card from tray drops it on the floor with- 
out reading. Goes up to the Colonel and leads him to an 
arm chair. Makes him sit down. Sits on the arm. Hand 
around his neck. Leans her face against his). My own dear, 
papa. (James picks up card and presents it) I am not ac- 
quainted with the gentleman. (EXIT James at c. d.) You 
dear old papa; mamma worshipped you. 

Colonel. Take her away, Tom. 

Tom. Geraldine, James handed you a card bearing the 
name of Lord Geoffrey Lester. 

Geraldine. My father, yes! {Crosses to table and taps 
bell) 

Tom. Why, uncle, she knows that Lord Lester is her father. 
(Goes to Geraldine) Come, we will go together. 

Colonel. Who told her? 

Geraldine. Bridget. 

ENTER Bridget r. u. e. 

Bridget (smiling). Yis, Oi'm the sinner as towld. 
Tom. Bridget, in thy name, may Ireland have all she wants 
and may the supply of Bridgets never give out. 

ENTER James c. d. 

Geraldine. James, tell the gentleman that an American 
girl recognizes no authority foreign to dictations of her own 
heart. 

Mrs. Clarke (crosses to Geraldine). But, my dear, think 
of the grandeur of being Lady Lester. A lady of title. That 
will never be yours if you remain here. 

Geraldine. Mrs. Clarke, you cannot measure an American 
girl with an English yard stick. 

Mrs. Clarke (retreating). Failed again. All is lost now. 

Colonel (rising). What does it mean? 

Tom. It means that an American daughter recognizes not 
the right of foreign interference. 

Colonel (crosses to a). She will remain! 

Tom. Baby Scott. 

(Colonel, Geraldine, and Tom down front c. Ralph and 
Mae l. by settee. Burton and Mrs. Clarke at c. d. Mrs. 
Clarke with back toward audience. Bridget and James 
hugging each other at r. u. e.) 

CURTAIN. 




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